The Magickal Rituals
by Solomon4inspiration
Summary: Trying to beat the magic out of any wizard is never a good thing, let alone from Harry Potter. It could spell disaster for the world. This improbable event alters Harry's destiny, not in a way anyone would have dreamt of. What is a naive young wizard to do when the strings of destiny drag him to situations which will test everything from his ideals, his goals, to all his beliefs?
1. An Obscurial or a Poltergeist?

Disclaimer: The only time you have to read this - I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: Hello Mighty People! I hope you like it! With love.

* * *

Chapter 1 - An Obscurial or a Poltergeist?

* * *

 _This world is an unsavory soup of opposing realities. It is a medley of acceptance and resistance, hope and misery, joy and apathy, excitement and boredom, love and fear. Unfortunately, it tends to lean to the right for most. The world doesn't care about our rights and wrongs. It continues to float by following its own rules, which guide us while being guided by us. It's up to us to ascertain what rules the world follows, and what rules it should follow._

The words echoed in the mind of a young, black-haired teen carrying a springy bearing. He was kneeling down on a flat circular stone block. _This is it. There's no going back now._ He inspected the room with a contemplative glance. Everything was in place. Every nook, every detail that he had so meticulously envisioned for the ritual took its shape before him. Yet the stillness and the silence seemed to say something to him. Everything was in limbo, waiting. Waiting for him to choose. _Why would I want to go back?_

He thought back on to his frantic life. The world had truly given him a rotten hand, crushing his hopes every time he thought he was in for a new round. Here he was, fighting for his life ever since he was 11, having had it even worse before that. All that had sustained him over the years was the faux hope that his tribulations had some meaning, a well-defined purpose, to take him to a better place. In the end, though, life had always administered him the most appropriate reality-inducing dose, pushing him deeper into his self-designed pit of sorrows. _Hope! Hope is a mistake._ All that had ever given him was misery and pain. What was he even hoping to achieve? He realized now that even receiving a convenient answer wouldn't change anything. His life was what it was. The world would go on without waiting for him to come to terms with his own existence. By trying to define his life and concocting some convenient meaning for it, he was just wasting his life.

He looked down at the triangular symbol drawn on the altar projecting an eerie blood-red glow. _The deathly hallows._ Lit black candles, encircling the altar, were illuminating the small room, now carrying a sense of excitement with them. _I have to do this._ The enemy kept getting stronger and the list of people coming for his head kept growing each year. There were times where he truly believed that there was a safe way out of this. But those days were getting rarer and rarer. _Who would I believe in, if I couldn't even believe in myself?_ Adorning a gray mask, he closed his eyes and picked up the shining dagger by his side. Just a touch of it on his index finger and blood was gushing and dripping over on the symbol. He raised the silver chalice to his mouth. His eyes were clouded when he opened them. However, there was a clarity in his thoughts now.

 _I was so stupid back then… Always trying to do the right thing, without questioning whether it was the right thing to do. Without asking what is right and what is wrong? It is the most difficult question we face, and as we chose the answer, we choose the world we see. Yet, few try to answer this, let alone realize it. This confusion weakens my belief in myself. In my magic! I want to see it clearly. I won't allow my magic to be withheld from me any longer!_

He raised his right hand to his chest, and loudly intoned the words to complete the ritual that he had so methodically designed for the past two months. The ritual that was prohibited and yet promised him so much.

 _"Magick, gift me with understanding. Illuminate the darkness and remove from mine eyes the scales that have been placed upon them."_

 _"Magick, gift me with understanding. Let me know your presence in my life."_

 _"Magick, let me see myself reflected in your glory, and your glory reflected in myself."_

 _"Magick, give the wisdom to see to the core of all issues, and the insight to see the true purpose beyond the veil."_

 _"Magick, give me the ability to know, and the clarity to see, and the will to act without guilt and in total confidence."_

 _"I will draw from within that with which I would have the world know without."_

The flames flickered wildly as he gulped the rest of the drink. He could feel the heightened perception. Colors became brighter, edges looked sharper, the burning candles hissed louder. He stared unblinkingly across the room. Everything was different. Everything seemed to demand his attention, calling for his fascinated gaze to turn towards them. Like each had something crucial to tell him. Things started moving as he moved. His mind failed to caution him as he saw a chair whoosh towards him. Yet it didn't touch him. A wave of disorientation passed through him, making him fall to his knees. He could hear voices, some speaking to him, some speaking to someone else. Some blaming him, some praising him. The gentle trill from Fawkes carried the pleasant lull of sleep.

"Don't sleep! Remember! Remember what you were trying to do." A squeaky voice rang out loudly in the room.

 _Trying to do?_ It required some effort to bring his attention to the question. Yes, he wanted to defeat Voldemort. _No._ His mind retorted back, the thought accentuated by a dark sinking feeling in his gut.

" _No?"_ He repeated aloud.

"What is the boy doing? This is no fun," the squeaky voice returned.

"Don't call me that!" The groggy reply came automatically.

"Huh… good boy?"

The instinctual reply did bring back some of his awareness, though. _No, it wasn't just about defeating Voldemort._ His heart thumped as forced his eyes to remain open. _This is more important than that._ Wisps of black and white smoke had filled the room and were growing. _I am weak and I don't want to be._ He dropped his metal barriers as the smoke engulfed him. His smoky vision was soon replaced by blurry images, some from his past, some which were imagined. He wouldn't call them memories, or thoughts. They were much too intense for those. He could see them, hear them, feel them.

 _He was alone…_

 _He was dreading going to school. It turned out to be not as bad as he had imagined…_

 _He was lying sprawled out on the floor, crying. 'That big, mean, bully! If only I was strong enough to hit him. To hurt him…'_

 _He laughed as the teacher berated Dudley in front of the classroom…_

 _He was so happy. He had ranked 3rd in his class…_

 _He screamed. There was a rat in the cupboard…_

 _He was frustrated. The teacher was punishing him for missing homework even though he explained that the light in his cupboard was not working…_

 _He was paying attention to every word the teacher was saying. She was explaining why their education was important, and how it would help them in the future…_

 _'No!' He looked in the mirror. He felt like crying. How was he supposed to go to school with his hair like that…?_

 _Another night without food…_

 _He was lying silently in his cot. He hoped that he wouldn't get blamed for the game he had broken. 'It was worth it though…'_

The tornado of emotions seizing him caused his eyes to water. He didn't know for how long they would continue. He had prepared himself for this, but he hadn't expected to feel such raw intensity. He tried to focus on his goal and kept his desire at the forefront of his mind, knowing that a single misstep could have disastrous consequences. A last thought entered his mind as he lost his grip on reality. _Did_ _I make the right choice?_

* * *

 **June 23, 1991, Privet Drive**

Harry was feeling excited today, an anomaly in itself. _A whole day of doing what I like!_ He thought unable to keep the smile off of his face. His dear family was going to leave him alone to celebrate his cousin's birthday. He kept himself from giggling since he was aware of the suspicious look on his aunt's face across the dining table.

"Why are you smiling, _boy?_ " his aunt asked him with a displeased look on her face.

Harry berated himself and searched for an explanation. _Darn it!_ Not smiling in the presence of his family was on the top of CRUEL, an acronym he made for Crucial Rules for Upbeat and Extended Life, an essential list of rules he kept and maintained.

"I am not smiling, see!" he said frowning at his aunt.

She smacked his head. "Don't you act sassy with me! You don't want to be locked in your cupboard while we are gone, do you?"

He really didn't. On some days it'd suit him just fine, but today he could do whatever he wanted. He gestured to the television. "I just liked how cool this Arnold looks wearing his glasses and riding a bike." He paused before adding, "You know, I even saw a flying motorcycle in a dream yesterday."

He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. _What's wrong with me?!_

He tried not to recoil as his aunt sucked in a squeaky breath and his Uncle displayed the strange and frightening ability to turn purple.

"Boy!"

"How many times have we told you–"

They both started shouting at the same time.

"Unnatural–"

"Nothing a beating won't fix, I tell you–"

"The freaks will notice–"

"Stonewall High will beat it out of him, I'm sure–"

Spit flew from his uncle's mouth, while his aunt's high-pitched voice made his ear hurt. He couldn't really make sense of what they were saying, but they could clearly understand each other as they kept adding to the other's point.

"Even Dudley knows motorcycles don't fly!"

He knew it was the wrong thing to say.

 _Ugh, I am so stupid!_ He berated himself from within the dark confines of his cupboard. He hadn't even finished his breakfast. In retrospect, he always wondered why he made such mistakes when he knew better.

 _No, there's nothing wrong with you,_ he reminded himself for the umptieth time. These people were clearly not normal. Normal for these people was never asking any questions, never being curious, never being imaginative or creative; in short, be a dud or like Dudley. _I'd sooner cut my hair then be normal like they want._ Them being normal was like saying that this world was a good place to be in, or that everyone would be happy and rich in their life, and love each other, or that magic is real, or good job Harry, thank you.

He imagined what his day would have been like if not for his stupidity. Dudley would have been enjoying getting to bully his parents without restraint, having tantrum-convince them into not taking Harry. Mrs. Figg would have slept her day in a hospital, from what he'd heard. _This day couldn't have gotten any better!_ He felt miserable thinking about it. Such a day came rarely, a day devoid of any nagging remarks and rude frowns. A day where he could have done whatever he wanted. It needed no CRUEL.

* * *

Harry waited for the sound of the car to fade before sweeping off Dustin, the 7-legged spider, from his shoulder. He tried to open the cupboard door but bristled upon realizing that they had indeed locked the door. _Ugh, I wish I could just smack them on the face!_ He knew it'd never happen, but still, it didn't hurt to fantasize about it, especially since he had nothing else to do. He had a few hours to himself before the banes of his life would return. He didn't know who he was angry at more, them or himself. _I am going to make their life hell. I'd… I'd…_ He kicked the door with his barefoot leg.

"Ouch…" A click from the door stopped his moaning. _Huh._ He pushed the door and it opened.

Rage forgotten, he whooped in delight. _Oh, wow. All this time I could have escaped the cupboard just by banging hard against the door?_

Another problem presented itself, though. _How am I going to explain this?!_ "Ugh, I will deal with it later." At least, he was out of the damn cupboard.

He stepped out and, although he wasn't that hungry, made himself a sandwich. He made sure to use Aunt Petunia's favorite silverware. _Ahh, that's what freedom tastes like._ Definitely better than usual.

He was shaking with excitement now. He saw the huge pile of gifts in the hall, most of which open, just screaming for his attention. He was itching to try them, but there were so many other options too. He couldn't remember the last time he was spoiled for choices… well, good choices anyway. He could watch TV, have a go at Dudley's computer games, or examine these gifts, and maybe even snitch one of them off.

"Today's going to be so much fun!"He declared loudly, not having a clue as to how different this day was going to end up to be from what he was imagining.

Trying to make the most of what he had, he switched on the TV, and putting some music on, started Dudley's computer. He didn't think he'd be nervous, but his hands were shaking as he switched it on. He had spent nights wondering what it was like to play on a computer, and there were so many appealing games that he had seen Dudley try. Paratrooper, Tetris, Arkanoid and a bunch more. Some games even had a story. _How cool was that?_ There was also a strategy game, Sim-City, a game he had heard his classmate brag about. It was a pre-birthday gift by Uncle Vernon that Dudley had played only once before throwing it into the luxury trash pile that was his second bedroom. Apparently, it was a real-life simulation of a whole city, and you acted somewhat like the king managing its finances, planning its infrastructure, building parks for entertainment. It had the best graphics yet. Even Harry who only got to touch a computer at school got excited about the game! Naturally, Dudley didn't like it. _"Who'd play this game? It's like working instead of playing!"_

Half an hour later, he finally managed to launch the game. The computer had taken 10 minutes just to start, and the rest was spent in learning to start and play the game. He just hoped he didn't delete anything accidentally. _Or I hope I did and they don't blame me for it._ He grinned at the thought. _This is great actually._

He searched for the game that the dud had been playing. _There. Right click, delete. Ha, that should remove the game._ "Aha, _now_ try to beat Polkis's records _."_ He had far too many memories of that idiot getting one up on him. He'd do anything to get back on Dudley. Maybe he would get an opportunity to use the new camera to click a photo of his stupid expression on trying to start the game.

Then he got another idea. _No, I shouldn't do that,_ a part of his mind, to which he usually listened to, immediately warned. But he was filled with an irresistible urge to go ahead with it. He was feeling a little mischievous today. _Hopefully, they don't find out about it, or at least not too soon, and by then I should be able to escape punishment._

Grinning, he went to Dudley's room and looked for things he could mess up with. _Holy moly, what does he do with these many toys?!_ He had thought Dudley's second bedroom contained all of his old stuff. But that was just the old stuff that he had managed to move.

 _Let's go for the new ones first. Hmm…_ Sensing some movement from the corner of his eyes, he immediately glanced at the red, remote-controlled car on the bedside table. _Huh, did it actually move right now?_ He shook his head and picked it up. It was Dudley's favorite car. _No…,_ he thought. "Yes!" he exclaimed. He removed its batteries and replaced them with the ones from an old discarded cuckoo-clock.

"Hah hah ha ha, take that, cousin." He was breathing hard in exhilaration.

He did the same with some more toys. _Yeeeeas!_

His heart was beating loud and he was feeling a high he never had. He plopped down on the bed. _Wow, this bed is so soft. And what's this?_

He had sat down on Dudley's school books. He looked at the homework. _Nooo! I shouldn't…_ He again ignored the restraining voice in his mind. "This is going to be hilariouuus!"

His hands moved on their own, and his mind ran a mile a minute. After he was done, he evaluated his handy work. Pages crumpled. _OK._ "By" became "Bye", "Hat" became "Hate", Words crossed out or changed. _Not bad._ Rude remarks added to teachers' remarks. _Nice!_ Ink spilled on the last piece of homework. _Brilliant!_

He only regretted it after the job was done. _Oh no, why did I do that? I am so screwed if they catch me. They won't, though,_ he thought after hyperventilating for a bit. _Dudley never shares anything school related with them._

He also felt a little apprehensive and bad for Dudley. _But, not bad. Happy Birthday, Dudley. How did you like my gift?_ he thought a little spitefully. The last couple of weeks of school were going to be so much fun. _I should clean this place of all signs of me entering here, though._

As he was doing that, he was startled by a thud from downstairs. _Oh no, did I leave the kitchen's window open again?_

He turned to go downstairs to check but had to catch himself. All of a sudden, he felt exhausted. Though, he hadn't done much work since the morning. He noticed he had started breathing loudly too.

His head had started spinning. _Was this getting sick?_ He couldn't recall the last time he was sick. He had to sit to stop his legs from giving out. He felt as if his body would give up any second.

H felt his eyebrows getting heavy, and had to close his eyes. Taking quick breaths, he tried to compose himself. _Everything is alright._ A long breath. _It's just a... You are…_

* * *

KLANK! He sprang back to consciousness. "Ugh!" _What happened?_ "AAAhhh," he felt as if his head was splitting open. _Why am I on the floor?!_

The last thing he remembered was ruining Dudley's homework. He looked around the room. Everything was disordered, and just as Dudley had it. Did he fell unconscious? He looked at the clock. It was at least an hour since he had been out.

He felt tired and wanted to lie down for a bit.

Feeling an anxious churning in his stomach, he trudged back downstairs. The TV was on, but no sound came off it. A terrible thought struck his mind.

He warily sat on the sofa and picked up the remote. _Please don't let anything be wrong with the TV. Uncle Vernon would have my head!_ He increased the volume again. _Phew._

Thanking his lucky stars, he lounged down.

His eyes went wide. There, lying by his side, was Dudley's new video camera. _What was it doing here?_ He hadn't unboxed it, had he?

He wasn't a stranger to weird things happening around him. This brought down a terrible feeling upon him, though. Then he remembered the sound that had alerted him when he was in Dudley's room. He looked around. _No sign of a cat._ He entered the kitchen. The window was closed. _Weird. Was it a rat again?_ He seriously hoped not.

He carefully packed the camera again. Examining the living room, he slowly went back to the sofa. His leg got stuck in something and he nearly lost his balance. Only his quick feet allowed him to avoid falling over. _Ugh!_ This day was not panning out as he had hoped.

" _EEeeh, hee hee hee!_ "

He whipped around. He thought he heard a high-pitched giggle.

There was nothing out of ordinary there. If he was previously weirded out, now he was definitely sketched out. _Something was very wrong._

"Wh–who's there?" He asked hoping with all his heart that nobody answered.

Silence. _Calm down, Harry. No-one is playing Harry Hunting... and ghosts don't exist._

He forced himself to believe that it was just his imagination. Maybe playing those computer games did something to his brain. Maybe that's why the teachers asked them to not play too much video games. He lumbered back to and sat on the sofa. _That's it. I would just lie here and watch the TV till the Dursleys came back._ He immediately jumped.

The channel on the TV had changed.

He looked around in fright. _No, no, no! Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, please come back soon!_ That thought momentarily broke him out of his delirium and he noticed that the remote was under him, where he had sat. _Maybe..._

He went down from being absolutely terrified to being completely anxious. With trembling hands, he picked it up. There was a trickle of sweat on his brows now. Taking deep breaths, he moved to change the channel again when the channel changed on its own.

He made a squeaky voice and crouched on the sofa hiding his face between his knees. His body was shaking. He was sure that he hadn't pressed any buttons. He remained in this position moaning, waiting for anything to happen to him. _Why? Why did I open the cupboard?_ He thought.

Nothing happened for a few minutes with him sitting there, trembling. Then the channel changed. Harry shivered. And changed again. He made a whimpering noise. And again. He stood as still as a log. He hadn't been this terrified his whole life. And then, the thought that was previously so terrifying came back as a last ray of hope. _Maybe… Maybe there was something wrong with the TV._ That was far more likely than a ghost haunting in him in bright daylight. _Yes, that was it. He was being stupid, freaking out for no reason._ That wasn't much better though if he really thought about it. There would nothing be worse than the Dursleys coming home to find a damaged TV. The channel changed again. _No, there was something worse. There definitely was._

He opened his left eye minutely and glanced from the gap between his legs. Everything looked the same. He slowly raised his head. There was no sign of anything out of the ordinary. He looked at the TV waiting for the channel to change. It didn't. _Dammit, change!_ The channel changed. He let out a huge sigh of relief. _Thank God, the TV is faulty._

He stayed there for a few moments gratefully. All he wanted now was to have a good nap. He had enough excitement for today. He was about to turn off the TV when he felt the hair stand on his back. He sensed the presence before it smacked his right hand.

He gave a frightful yelp and shrunk back into the couch. "AAAagh…" he cried. There was nothing there. _Oh my god! Oh my god!_ His body felt paralyzed in his fright. "Please don't kill me!" he whimpered pathetically.

" _Booo,_ " the ghost whispered… _in both of his ears_! Harry screamed and bolted into his cupboard, slamming the door hard. The interior was filled with dust and spiders. Harry wasn't about to sit around and collect dust, though. His heart was thumping, and his mind was in overdrive. He jumped on his bed, which made a protesting screech and covered himself in his blanket.

He didn't know for how long he stayed, unthinking, unmoving. Nothing ghostly happened. He replayed the events of those 10 minutes over and over, trying to find some way to make sense of them. But with each remembrance, his foreboding only grew. _I hope the ghost can't come into his cupboard._ He felt like crying. _I hope he can't get into my blanket!_

He could only hear the sound of TV from outside. He waited. The channels weren't changing. _Am I going bonkers?_ Trying not to make a sound, he softly lied down and closed his eyes, and waited. _Maybe this is all a nightmare and it will be over when I wake up._ It was a long time before his heartbeat slowed down, and he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Harry was jerked awake by the sound of a car pulling into the street. The first thing he remembered was – _Oh no! I left the TV on._ He kicked open the cupboard door and scrambled out, gliding the spiders back into the cupboard. The TV was on, but no sound was coming from it. He then distinctly remembered the weird events of the morning and halted in his tracks. _No..._

He could hear the car being parked in the garage, and… _was that the tire bursting?_ He didn't know what to do. Did he imagine the events in the morning? After a few moments of calming himself down, he sneaked into the living room and glanced around carefully. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

He could hear voices coming from outside. Come _on, you just have to run and switch off the TV._ He forced himself to dash into the hall to pick up the remote but froze at the scene in front of him. The remote was now flying away from him, and the volume was going up. _Oh my God! Oh my God! It's a ghost!_

Hands trembling, Harry hastily pulled the television plug from the socket. He had heard of a movie where the ghost was in the TV. A loud baby-wail echoed through the hall. _I am so dead!_ He had never felt such a combination of helplessness, confusion, and terror in his life.

He heard the sound of keys in the doorknob. Deciding it best to leave Dursleys to face… whatever it was, Harry bolted for the cupboard. But, as was becoming the norm today, he couldn't. The thing tripped him in the middle of the hall, and he fell face flat onto the pile of gifts.

What happened next was the stuff of his horrid nightmares. There was a ghost crying in baby's voice; he was gripping onto Dudley's new bicycle whose handle his fall had broken, holding a broken computer game in his hand; the Dursley's were gaping at this scene from the doorway, and Dudley had started bawling.

KLUNK! Some kitchen wares went rattling to the floor in front of the door. Aunt Petunia had her hands over her mouth, and his Uncle was shaking with a flushed face. "WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT NOT BLOWING UP THE HOUSE?!" his Uncle bellowed.

Harry stood rooted to the spot. He didn't know what to do next; scream, save himself from his Uncle, run as far as possible from the ghost, or pinch himself to check if this was a dream. Strangely, all he could do was to say, "Happy birthday, Dudley."

The room was filled with emotions ranging from confusion, fury, and fear to elation as everyone watched the new camera floating in the air to the top of the sink. "Say CHEESE," a squeaky voice shouted. There was a flash of the picture clicking, and the house was filled with uproarious laughter that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

* * *

 _You desire in your life that which you think you lack, and the severity of it inflates as time passes. He desired the love that he was so cruelly denied. Love was the truth in his life then, in whatever weird shape it could be in living with the Dursleys. True to the reality of our world, its opposite could have been true too: he could have desired for fear from others. The toss of the coin was in his favor, and a poltergeist was created instead of an obscurial. Oh, how you work Magick, weaving the threads of fate so flagrantly, but which can only be obvious in retrospect._

* * *

 **June 23, 1991, Privet Drive**

Lyanna Traymere, a tall girl, with a freckled face of twenty-two years, with thick dark hair, and swift, agile movements apparated at No. 4, Privet Drive with Norman Macmillan, a twenty-seven-year-old man with curly brown hair and similar alert movements. This was the first case of a spirit disturbance this month, and Lyanna was glad for the reprieve. She was getting knackered of just sitting and pushing papers. She had always hated paperwork, mainly because she had never ever managed to finish it in her two years of service. It always appeared to expand to fill the time available to her.

"Let the show start," she said as she observed her muggle surroundings with expectant eyes.

Spirit disturbances in muggle homes were very rare and they always provided her with a much-coveted entertainment in her life and equipped her with stories to tell. And it was her turn to take charge of the situation.

"You seem far too pleased for a slytherin among muggles, Lyanna," Norman observed as he looked around.

"There's only one thing I like more than scaring the shit out of muggles," she said flashing him a smile, "and that's muggles shitting their pants."

Norman raised his eyebrows.

"Don't tell me you don't find our job entertaining?" she asked.

"Yeah, I do, kind of. I just didn't expect you to be so candid."

She smirked. She just loved not meeting the expectations of people.

He whistled as he looked around, "No signs of any destruction. That narrows it down to a ghost, a token spirit, or maybe a poltergeist."

"There'd be more of a ruckus in case of a poltergeist, and well, we aren't that lucky."

The sun was about to set and a cool breeze was flowing in Little Whinging, whirling their dull black robes. She could feel Norman surveilling the surroundings while keeping an eye on her as she casted a protective barrier around the house. She didn't mind having his eyes on her. He was not too hard to look at either, and he was definitely not like the douchebags she always had the misfortune to meet.

Two weeks ago, she was paired up with him in the Spirit Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, when Norman's previous partner had gone AWOL. It was a lot more relaxing working with him and she felt more in control compared to working with her previous supervisor. She had already hinted that she liked working with him, and would love to make their team permanent.

Their attention was drawn to the noises coming from the small walled structure situated near their house (garage). Norman casted a disillusionment charm on both of them.

A big, round, and heavy blond kid came waddling out and started kicking the wall as he cried, "That was boooring. You couldn't even make the snake move! That was the worst birthday eveeeer." He sniffed theatrically.

A large man, who could only be the kid's father judging by the size, tried to calm him. "It wasn't really boring, Dudders, was it? Piers seemed to have fun. And we got to eat your favorite dish at your favorite restaurant. We even bought two more gifts for you." He smiled as he ruffled Dudders' hair. "And you know what? Daddy's wonder boy deserves two more," he coaxed further.

The pampered boy dropped his theatrics at that, "So, now I will have… I have…"

"Forty-four gifts, my sweet pumpkin," a sugary voice responded, as a tall, large necked woman exited.

Lyanna blinked. That was the weirdest conversation and the most dysfunctional parenting she had ever seen. She wished her parents were like that. Though, none of her would be kids would ever have such a pleasure. She shook her head. _Well, the prologue of my new story is definitely original._

Their attention turned to the house, from where a loud cacophony of sound was coming. _Or was it a weird song?_ She focused her attention on the task at hand, wand at ready. _The story begins._

The large man started muttering curses under his breath. "I told the boy to stay in his cupboard!" He cursed darkly, veins throbbing in his neck.

Lyanna's eyes darkened. _It's one of those stories! There goes the story all to pot._

She followed the newly christened doughnut, as he rushed to the door, fumbling for the keys in his hands. _He better stays away from the kid!_

The song had stopped now, and instead, a loud bawling sound came from within, as if an infant was crying.

The doughnut stopped, looking perplexed, and glanced at his wife, who looked scared. He jammed the keys into the lock and turned.

A small boy, no more than 9, wearing horribly faded baggy clothes was gripping a bicycle, whose handle seemed to be twisted at an awkward angle. His eyes looked comically wide in those round glasses. Several boxes were lying scattered on the floor. _Hmm,_ _way too thin and shabby for a protagonist,_ Lyanna thought, growling under her breath.

She sensed a movement towards the kitchen. A fuzzy displacement in space, inhuman shape, partially corporal. _Looks like a poltergeist._

KLUNK!

The young wizard was looking like a hufflepuff who had just made an Unbreakable Vow to kick Severus Snape in the face while calling Gryffindor the best house.

"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT NOT BLOWING UP THE HOUSE?!" the doughnut bellowed.

 _Oh no, you won't do anything!_ She would break his ugly neck first.

"Happy birthday, Dudley." Doughboy was looking like a 3-year-old who had just lost all his toys. She had to restrain herself from laughing when she realized that this was indeed the case.

She sensed a presence picking up a camera and carrying it to the kitchen. _Definitely a poltergeist._

"Say CHEESE," the poltergeist shouted, and then started laughing hysterically on clicking the photo. She smirked despite her anger. It did create a pretty amusing picture.

"AAAAHHHHHH, there's a ghost, there's a ghost, there's a GHOST!" Doughboy ran outside the house, followed by his pale mother and his swollen father. The scrawny boy came running a few moments later, keeping a distance from others.

"It's not a ghost. It's a poltergeist." A voice came from thin air.

Doughboy jumped and fell on his butt whimpering, and a shrill squeak escaped his mother.

Lyanna rolled her eyes and removed the disillusionment charm from them. "Don't worry. We are not ghosts," she said appearing in thin air.

The muggles were looking like house elves who had not followed their master's orders. Doughboy had fainted, unable to handle any more birthday surprises. She laughed. _This story is getting amusing._

The mother screamed, "Dudley! Dudley! Sweetie, are you okay?!" She pointed her finger at them. "What have you done to him?!" came her invasive shrill voice.

She waved her wand to cast a barrier at the front door, while Norman, who was looking amused, explained to the hysterical mother, "He's alright, I reckon. Looks like the shock was too much for him." He paused, stroking his beard. "Can't be a heart attack, could it? I don't think kids can get them… But, then, I haven't seen a kid this plumpy… Nah, he'll be alright." _The only problem with Norman was that he wasn't funny, especially when he wanted to be._

"We are from the Spirit Division of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in the Ministry of Magic," He said as if it was the most important department in the ministry. He waited for some recognition from them.

The doughnut looked like he had swallowed a pint of his own piss, and the woman, if it was possible, looked even more scared. The smaller boy who was blinking his eyes owlishly, and kept pinching his arm asked, "Are you like, Ghostbusters?" And then exclaimed, as if on second thought, "What to do you mean by _magic_?!"

The doughnut interjected before Norman could reply, "I demand, sir, that you do whatever you came to do. Do your hokey pokey, and rid us of whatever abomination is in the house. After that, I have to ask you to leave us alone, and not say a word of this freakishness!"

Lyanna gave a cold laugh. "You demand! Do we look like someone from whom you can demand?" She asked while casting an intimidation spell on herself. The doughnut spluttered, scrambling back, barely preventing himself from falling on Doughboy.

Lyanna glanced at Norman apologetically. They weren't exactly allowed to do that, but the muggle was getting on her nerves. But Norman was staring transfixed at the bespectacled kid. She would have been chastened if it had been her old supervisor.

She turned to the cause of this chaos. He was looking at her wide-eyed, with his jaw dropping to the floor. She undid her spell, looking as if it was business as usual. "Ghost busters? You could say so. But as Norman," she gestured to her partner, "was saying before, the spirit in your house is a poltergeist."

She paused before continuing, "A poltergeist is a nature spirit which loves to create chaos, as evident from our situation." She waved her arms for illustration. "It usually manifests in children's homes where chaotic energy is abundant and is repressed. It is extremely rare for a Poltergeist to appear in muggle homes with just one magical child though, as was the case here. And yes," she said conspiratorially, leaning close to him, "magic exists. There's a wholly different magical world out there." She got a good look at the protagonist's face and gaped. _Merlin's saggy pants!_

Everyone was silent for a while, before Harry Potter, who was now receiving two glares, and two amazed stares, allowed, "What exactly do you mean by a magical child... or a mogul?"

It took a few moments before realization hit her like a ton of bricks. This boy, the Boy-Who-Lived! the savior of the freaking wizarding world! didn't know anything; about himself, or magic, or about his fame. She glanced at his family, who looked terrified at what was going on. And these… MUGGLES were his family! Norman looked equally gobsmacked besides her… _Well, this story got a whole lot interesting._

Norman muttered, "He is the boy who lived." And as if truly realizing it, said loudly, "He is the boy-who-lived!"

Lyanna composed herself and asked herself what she should do now. Norman was her senior, but she felt she needed to take charge of the situation. _He was the boy-who-lived!_ She didn't want to imagine what he must be thinking of them gaping like this at him _._ She began, "Harry… umm, I know the day has been very unusual for you, and you have lots of questions. But there's a more pressing problem looming in the house. We will answer all the questions you have after solving that," she assured him. She hoped she sounded friendly to him.

Harry Potter could only nod.

"I am afraid, I must ask you to go back in the house," she said in her usual routine, taking in the panicked expression of the Boy-Who-Lived. "A poltergeist only appears in the vicinity of the primary magical source, one who caused the disturbance. We can only capture it in your presence." _Think quickly!_

The boy was looking at the house frightfully. "I'm not going back in there. The source could be any of them," he pointed to the muggles. "You can take any of them."

The boy-who-lived's _family_ had horrified expressions on their faces. _There was something wrong with the situation._ But for the life of her, her mind wouldn't cooperate. _Ok, next step._ "These _muggles_ don't have the capability to that. You, Harry, are different than them, better than them. Don't worry, Poltergeists are not dangerous. They just like to play pranks. And we'd be protecting you in there."

Harry Potter needed just slight persuasion after that, "No one has ever been harmed by a poltergeist… at least physically." _What can I do?_

It was an alien and surreal scene for Lyanna as they went inside. The sun had dipped lower, and the street lights were turning on. Numerous thoughts were crashing inside her head obscuring her way – about Harry Potter, about how he knew nothing, about his family being abusive. What was Dumbledore's deal? What is the ministry playing at? There was a confluence of these thoughts with other parallel thoughts – her connections in the ministry, the scandals it would cause, the chaos. Still more thoughts were coming into play originating from her feelings and the emotions bubbling up inside her – anger at the muggles, pity, and gratefulness for the boy who lived, excitement at the potential outcomes, a chance of escaping her mundane job, anxiousness at the possible repercussions, disbelief at Dumbledore. Each thought worked together feeding her the answer to what she should do.

And as usual, in situations like this, it is what you identify with, that decides the outcome. Lyanna's inner Slytherin started plotting.

She matched up Dumbledore against the Ministry, tried to find opportunities in the scandals and chaos, thought of advantages and disadvantages of spreading the news for herself… and for the savior of the wizarding world.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading it :)


	2. Precautionary Contract

Chapter 2 - Precautionary Contract

* * *

 _It is what our goal is that drives us. What drives us defines our life. Choose a modest goal, and you will not fulfill your potential. Chose a goal too grandiose, your mind can rebel against your best interests. Of course, it all depends on your ability to choose your means. The means and the goal are not separate. They are at the same level, intricately connected to each other._

 _My goal was very simple – to escape the clutches of the Dursleys. The means I had were non-existent, through no fault of my own. Goal accomplished. Now what? It isn't a real goal. It's an interlude to the main plot._

* * *

The three magical beings entered the house in hushed steps. Harry had a lot of questions running through his mind, most of which he couldn't even put into words yet. He found it all so… _dreamlike._ _I have to be dreaming!_ He pinched himself again, and again. He even questioned the efficacy of the technique. Would he even wake up from a dream if he did that? Yet, all that was secondary to what was lying ahead. There was no way that there existed ghostly creatures that came from children's chaotic energy or something. He kept on falling back, terrified of meeting the newly identified – poltergeist again, no matter how harmless it was proclaimed to be. Something like that couldn't be harmless even in his dreams.

The dull, boring, and utterly normal house looked as real as it had ever looked. This was in total contrast to the woman wearing a dull black robe pointing a black stick at the living room. She whispered, "Lumos." This inexplicably resulted in the end of the stick lighting up with a white glow, illuminating the dim shadowy room. Harry's stomach did summersaults at the sight _._ She flicked the stick, sending the white ball of light flying smoothly to the ceiling, throwing beams of light all across. _This was… magic?_ Then his brain supplied a truly elating thought. _Didn't they say that he was different than his family? What does that mean?_

The day had been very unusual, full of unease and fear. But Harry now felt that he was being led through a door, one offering change, and a feeling lingered in Harry's mind, one that was seldom experienced – hope.

"Go ahead, Harry Potter. The poltergeist will appear soon," said the man, discouraging him further. Although wary of any further surprises, he steeled his will and stepped forward into the ruined hall.

SWOOOSH. His daring didn't go unrewarded, as he soon saw water swooping in on him from mid-air. He screamed and tried to duck but wasn't on time. SPLASH… and he wasn't drenched. A shimmering barrier stood in front of him. He careened back, and the barrier followed him.

"Now, Lyanna," the man whispered. She took out a small pouch from the inside of her robes, put her hand in its mouth, and said something. A shining black oval stone was in her hand, the size of a peanut. He watched as the stone left her palm and floated in the air. Despite himself, despite being terrified at the thought of the poltergeist, he kept his eyes open, staring transfixed at the scene. She turned her stick towards him, and he had to jerk his hand back. A sharp prickling sensation had hit the index finger of his left hand. A drop of blood slid down his finger and floated towards the hovering stone. He saw the tiny drop spread to cover the oval stone, shining as the rays of light hit it from the ceiling. It looked so… _magical._

The blood-red stone followed Lyanna as she began an advance towards the middle of the room. WHOOSH! Several more toys were flung at them and water rushed in streams from all directions. The man started flicking his stick hastily, producing barriers to protect them from the projectiles.

She glanced towards her colleague. "This is the place, right?"

The mage just nodded and kept casting spells to protect them from whatever was being thrown at them.

Harry's heart kept thundering.

The stone floated to the center of the room as she pointed her stick at it and chanted, "Spiritum Captum Saxis Hostilem Esse Ducunt Ad," making complex motions with her stick. Dark-purple rays began to emit from the stone, which felt menacing and deadly as they started extending into the room.

His emotions were in disarray as he watched what was transpiring. She motioned for him to come forward. Feeling as if he had no choice, he acquiesced and the glow began stretching towards him.

His fear turned to dread as the glow connected to his stomach. His whole body wanted to recoil at the sinister touch, but something held his body in place. A loud wail echoed in the hall, seeming to originate from behind the television. The dark glow tracked the wail as if pouncing on a prey.

Harry gaped as an airborne figure appeared behind the television. It looked… _colorful_. It was very small, about the size of a human baby, with blue skin. It was bizarrely wearing a black suit with a white shirt, and black pants. It also wore orange pointy boots, a red tie, and a large, for its size, cowboy hat. Its green eyes were big and round, and his chubby cheeks had green lightning bolt marks. Although Harry had never seen anything like it, it looked uncomfortably familiar.

It clung to the TV stand to stop itself from being hauled. Lyanna, who had beads of sweat trickling down her eyebrows, thrust her stick towards it. The TV stand toppled, crashing the TV on the floor, and Harry felt his heart stop for a second.

The glow encased the poltergeist and started dragging it towards the stone. The poltergeist howled and screamed as it got closer to the dark stone, causing Harry to wince at the pain in its voice.

He could feel the poltergeist getting more desperate, the more it got closer. A wave of energy pulsated through the room as Lyanna gave a cry of protest, pushing the poltergeist aggressively into the repulsive stone. Harry felt an eerie moment of disorientation as the poltergeist's body started dissolving into the stone. It started vanishing like water in a sponge. A wave of fatigue passed through him and he fell to his knees once it was over.

Lyanna let out a sigh of relief. Harry was staring at the stone as if entranced by it. It had turned to a shiny emerald color. He should have felt relieved at the capture of the poltergeist, but all he could feel was a dull numbness.

Lyanna picked up the stone and let out, "I didn't think it'd be so taxing."

"Holy Morgana, that was something," Norman whistled. "Mr. Potter… are you alright?"

Harry, still feeling a little weighed down, nodded dumbly. "Will you please explain to me what the heck is happening?! What is that stick? Why are you wearing those clothes? What… what… who are you?!"

Norman glanced at Lyanna, who shrugged. "Well, how to explain this? Mr. Potter, we are wizards, people who can do magic. We live separately from muggles, people who can't do magic. You…" he paused, looking at the top of his head, "are a wizard too."

Harry's mind was racing. The wizard stopped his explanation, giving him some time to absorb the information. Just as Harry tried to open his mouth, he continued, "I know this is all very unusual to you, but believe me, you'll get used to all of this within days of joining our world."

Interrupting Harry's question once more, he said, "I know you have many questions, but we'll get to those in time. First, we need to take care of the poltergeist. Are you ready?"

He didn't feel he had any options except nodding.

"A poltergeist is a magical spirit. It cannot be destroyed unless its source is destroyed. Even if killed, it will reform near the original source, which is you… However, you have nothing to be worried about. It is now trapped and powerless. As long as you keep this stone in your possession, it can't break out."

 _OK_ … He felt like he had met his limit of learning life-changing things for the day. He added some new rules to CRUEL (Crucial Rules for Upbeat and Extended Life) – never lose the stone and learn to use magic at all costs. A few moments passed before he realized what he was being asked. _Always keep the stone with me? For my whole life?! What the heck?!_

"At all times?! That's insane. I can't always keep a look at it!" He switched his gaze between the two. "Isn't there some magic that can help me to, you know, keep track of it?" He asked hopefully.

It was Lyanna who answered, "There are many spells, not that you will be needing them. The stone will be undetectable to anyone except you, and rest assured, you won't lose it. We can attach it on some sort of charmed jewelry which you can wear all the time. It can be a ring, an earring, a locket, or whatever you want. There are charms to make it impossible for anyone else to remove it." She considered for a moment. "I think we can make a nice pretty ring off of it, don't you? Excuse me for a moment." She took out the pouch again from within her robes, and said "rings". A whole bunch of loose rings jumped into her hands.

"Choose the one you like the most."

 _I'll have to wear a magical ring now, one which held a poltergeist._ That sounded… actually cool. "Others won't be able to see it?" Harry asked looking at them.

"Only those who know of it can sense it."

Harry didn't care much and picked the first one he liked, a simple silver colored ring.

"A silver ring with an emerald stone. I like it!" Lyanna said smiling.

"I personally like the black one," Norman muttered.

"Hmm, black would look good too, but this is much better. The green matches your eyes, not that anyone can see it. How you feel about it is what matters, though," she said as she waved her stick, which made the stone attach to the head of the ring.

Harry took the proffered ring nervously. It felt strange. As if it had an added weight to it. He decided that he liked it. He could almost sense another presence in it.A scene of the poltergeist escaping to wreak havoc when Dudley's Aunt Marge came for a visit flashed in his mind.

"Is there any way it can escape?"

"As Norman said, you have nothing to worry about. After a while you won't even notice it," Lyanna said calmly.

Harry felt an urge to laugh suddenly. Here he was wearing a ring which jailed a poltergeist, a _magical spirit,_ which could escape if he wasn't careful, and he had nothing to worry.

He glanced at the door. _As if I don't have things to worry about._ _Well, onto the important questions._

"Is that stick necessary for doing magic?"

Lyanna laughed, "This is a wand, not a stick. Never call it a stick, or you will offend someone. And no. It isn't necessary; magic manifests itself in many ways – you can use magical artifacts, potions, Animagus transformation, mind magic, and of course there's wandless magic, but it is extremely difficult. You name the form and you can use magic with it. A wand just makes it easier to do magic. But that isn't what you want to ask, is it? Want to know whether you can do magic?"

Harry nodded eagerly.

"Well, you definitely can, and you will. Soon. You'll learn all about it when you'll go to Hogwarts… the magic school. But there are a lot of things you need to know..." She was interrupted by a timid knock on the door.

"Hey, how long till you are finished?" came the gruff complaint from his uncle standing outside.

She looked at the door and then at him. "But first, let's give the muggles something to think about, shall we."

She waved her wand. Harry jumped as loud sounds erupted all over the hall and the kitchen. His aunt and uncle must surely be cowering back to the garden. Aunt Petunia's fading screams which followed the bangs confirmed it.

She was laughing as Norman gave her a pointed look. "Before we start, let's clean up this mess," he said.

She nodded, and both simultaneously moved their wands in a sweeping motion and said, "Repairo." Everything in the house started moving. Broken pieces flew in the air joining together with the pieces that made them whole, as they returned to their original places, places the wizards definitely couldn't have known. Broken toys started reforming, returning to the center of the hall. The TV repaired itself. The bicycle's handle straightened, and it moved smoothly and parked itself near the toys. Water from the floor vanished. The camera flew from the kitchen and moved to its original position. Even his glasses slipped off from his nose and repaired themselves. Everything in the house looked just how Dursleys would have wanted it to. Except for the three of them of course.

Harry was looking at this with his mouth agape. _You can repair broken stuff with magic! And they don't even look tired._ _What else can I do with magic?_ He wondered. He had to ignore the impulse to jump and laugh uproariously.

A thought entered his mind, "Wait a second." He ran to his cupboard and brought out some of Dudley's old stuff that was now his – his broken crayons, pens and pencils, his torn-out books, his frayed school bag, his torn clothes.

"Can you fix this?" He looked at them hopefully.

"Sure, why not? What's this, your old stuff?" Lyanna asked.

"Um, yeah…"

She silently waved her wand again, and Harry watched the miracle unfold before his eyes. _Yeeeass!_

"That's brilliant! You guys must never need to buy new things! Or maybe you can create your own things through magic! Wait… can you also fix my bed, and the light-bulb in my cupboard?" Harry regretted it as soon as he said it. He didn't really mean to say it, but his excitement got the better of him.

Norman sighed, "Yes, no problem, Harry."

Harry reluctantly led them to his cupboard.

* * *

Harry was sitting on the couch looking gobsmacked, feeling like he had been hit by one bombshell after another. Norman and Lyanna, who were still occasionally casting murderous glares at the cupboard, were sitting in front of him in two armchairs.

Harry had sat on the couch with the fervent hope that he would finally learn what the hell was going on, and about magic, how to learn it, and whether he would be able to go to that school, especially when he had no money. Things had been looking up for him. He had always dreamt that someone, some distant relative would come and take him away. He had looked for ways to change his wretched existence. The sooner the better. The quickest way was to run from the Dursleys. The better way perhaps was to lay his head down, study and get a job.

But now… out of all things… magic, being everywhere, hidden from the common public, like this was some fantasy story. And there was more – his parents were a witch and a wizard too, just like him. There was a whole new magical world out there, and he belonged there. He had money and would get his admission letter to the magic school soon. An owl would deliver him his letter. And this wasn't a dream.

And then there was even more, making things even more surreal. He was famous, like a hero of the fantasy story. _Him!_ Because he killed some super bad dark lord, You-Know-Who, who was so evil that people were still afraid to use his name, even after his death. When he pushed for the name of the person he had apparently killed, they reluctantly told him that he was called Voldemort. And like this was a supervillain in the fantasy story, on 31st October, 10 years ago, he came to his house and killed his parents, who hadn't died in a car crash. Wizards don't travel by cars. It is acceptable in the magical world to refer to a wizard and a witch as wizards and not witches. When Voldemort tried to kill him too, he killed Voldemort by not being killed by the killing curse. And this still wasn't a dream. He was numb by that point.

 _You are the only one to survive the killing curse._ He, who was dressed in these rags, who lived in a cupboard, who was constantly shouted at, and had no friends, didn't feel so special.

All three of them were silent for a while. Harry, pondering on who he was, and the other two looking at him curiously wanting to see how he'd take it.

"I…," he cleared his throat. "Was my family… is this the only family I have?"

"James Potter was the last of the Potters. It is my guess that you were taken to the closest relatives you had on your mother's side," Norman answered. He was quiet for a moment. "Say, Harry, tell us about your relatives. On first glance, they seem like a work of art."

Harry paused. Whenever someone asked this, he replied with the opposite of what came to his mind. There would have been hell to pay if the Dursleys ever found out the truth. But he was now talking to different people, of a different world, about which he knew nothing, and of which he was supposedly a savior. His mind spun. Maybe, that CRUEL rule was no longer necessary. He chose to stick to the truth.

"They are a work of art of a crap artist, alright. They are awful. I wouldn't want to see them if they were the last ones left in this world. No one would," he replied.

They were silent, but their body language told Harry everything they weren't saying.

"Did they – I think I am going to have a word with them, Norman," Lyanna said furiously.

He nodded. "That's what I was thinking. But with restraint," he said pointedly.

"Even if they deserve it?! Which, you know they absolutely do."

"They are still under the jurisdiction of our law, Lyanna. We, most of all, should uphold it."

"I know, I know. _These laws made for our own protection!_ I can see why they were drafted to help us. Merlin forbid, we misuse our magic on these vile people, even if to save one of our own, somehow causing the downfall of our world on the way." She huffed. " _If_ I find out that they'd done _anything_ else, even _Dumbledore_ won't be able to save them, these draconian laws be damned."

Norman sighed. "Well, Harry, is there anything else you wanted to add or ask."

Harry felt that a normal thing to do was to get offended by them talking about his family like that in front of him. But he wasn't normal, was he? And for the first time, he was glad for it. Not wanting to elaborate further though, he asked what was lingering on his mind, "You said a letter would arrive for me soon, and a school's professor would come to take me to buy magic things? When will they come?"

"You want to leave this place soon, huh? You'll receive your acceptance letter about a month from now, and the new term starts on September 1st."

Harry's eyes fell. That meant he'd have to wait another month. He would probably be punished till then by his family.

"Listen, Harry," Norman said, "you never have to worry about your family again. Hell, you shouldn't worry about anything. You are the bloody boy-who-lived for crying out loud!... I'm sorry you were left with these people. But, rest assured, they will never… they will leave you alone from now on," he muttered something under his breath. "And you will have a new room tonight."

Never one to look at a gift horse in the mouth, Harry accepted this readily. "Thank you," he said in a small voice. He doubted he'd ever be able to thank them properly.

"No need to thank us, Harry. We are just doing our jobs," Lyanna said.

Harry nodded, still looking at them reverently.

"And as for the month-long wait, believe me, most of Hogwarts's students go through it. They wait for that exact moment their whole life, dreaming of it every day. When the time finally comes, this wait is what makes the experience all the more precious," she said, smiling at him. "But in the meanwhile, I do believe I have something for you that will keep you occupied."

Lyanna took out her magic pouch again, and said "Gilderoy Lockhart". A large book appeared in her hand.

 _Was this a magic book?!_ He saw a blonde man, wearing golden robes, standing proudly on its cover, posing like a model. His eyes widened. The picture was moving and winking at him. He felt a little unsettled looking at the wide grin. He had never seen anyone look so happy. He looked at the title – "Magic Gilderoy Lockhart Didn't Learn at Hogwarts".

"I am not one to judge a book by its cover, but in this case, the book totally matches the cover." Norman coughed, while Lyanna continued," It's a detailed description of magic and the insights the author had on different kinds of magic taught at Hogwarts at different points of his Hogwarts's education. Any wizard worth his gold knows these points, but they are difficult for the students to grasp. It will give you a nice glimpse into Hogwarts and what to expect there."

Harry took the book. _A gift. And that too a magic book!_ He knew what he'd be doing every moment of every day for the next month.

When he tried to thank her, she waved it off and said, "I've personally learned a lot from it, and I have no doubt the practices and theories listed here will prove invaluable to you at Hogwarts. Not that it is essential, of course, but one would be a fool to not make use of it."

"Thank you," he said again. He didn't think any of Dudley's gifts could ever be better than this.

"No need to thank us, Harry," she smiled. "It is us who should be thanking you. The entire wizarding world is indebted to you for what you did for us."

He averted his eyes. He wasn't used to being praised, or even looked at kindly, especially for something he didn't think he deserved.

She then waved her wand at the book. "There, the book will look like one of your old notebooks to the muggles."

"Lyanna, I think it's about time we leave," Norman said pointing to the clock.

"Oh... yeah. I didn't realize it was so late already."

He took out a long brown paper and a quill from his pouch. "Mr. Potter, if that's all, there's one final thing you need to do. You will have to sign this."

Harry took the quill. They had told him that they were from the magical government. It looks like in the magical world too they had to keep records of their job.

"Umm, don't I need some ink to write with this?"

"This is a special quill," was all she said.

Just as he was about to sign it, Lyanna interjected, "That is simply not done, Harry. You should have asked us what this contract is for."

"Come on, Lyanna. Let him be. He is just a child."

"He is Harry Potter for Merlin's wand. If there's anyone in the world who should be prepared, it is him," she said looking at him pointedly.

"You slytherins and your ways." He made an exaggerated motion as if to say, "go ahead."

She threw a displeased look at her partner and then turned to him. "In the magical world, you never sign anything anyone gives you without reading it carefully, and then too only signing if it's absolutely necessary. Imagine what a magical contract could do to you. The reality can be even worse," Lyanna explained staring his directly in the eyes.

Harry stared at her unintelligibly. The thought hadn't even entered his mind. "Umm, ok." He would try to remember this. He hoped he hadn't forgotten any other important stuff told to him today. He pointed the quill where Norman had indicated.

Lyanna cleared her throat. He looked at her questioningly. She stared at him. _Was he missing something, or do they also get flu in the magical world?_

He went back to the task.

"Don't you have something to ask us?"

Harry paused. _Couldn't it wait after he had signed the paper?_

"Um, yes. There are loads of questions I want to ask you. I don't know where to start. What kind of–"

"Anything related to this _contract_ ," Lyanna interjected, staring at him with a twitch on her lips.

Searching for what she was looking for, he looked at the paper and blushed. "Why should I sign this paper?" he asked, too embarrassed to look at their faces.

Norman interjected, "This is taking too long. Mr. Potter, this whole process of capturing a poltergeist is considered extremely confidential by the ministry. After signing this _parchment,_ not paper, you are magically contracted to the ministry to never divulge the information that you have a ring imprisoning a poltergeist to anyone. Like Lyanna told you, you should read the contract carefully. It's not like we have anywhere else to be."

Harry flipped the pages. The contract was seven pages long! She nodded at his questioning glance. He sighed and read through the parchment. Half an hour later, he was finished. It described over and over what he had been told, just using different words, some that he didn't understand. The consequences of breaking the contract would be imprisonment at Azkaban, whatever it was, for varying terms depending on the severity of the breach. Disclosing it to another wizard resulted in a 7-year term, to a house elf resulted in a 1-year term, to a muggleborn resulted in a 15-year term, and the list went on. That didn't sound good to him. Why was all this so confidential. He felt the answer would just raise more questions, especially since it was all so completely alien to him. _Well, it's not like I'd ever break it anyway._

"What's Azkaban?" Harry asked after signing the contract. He thought he would feel something, some sort of sensation, like he did when the poltergeist was captured, but he didn't.

"It's the magical prison. It's the last place anyone would ever want to be," Norman said as he collected the parchment and placed it in a file where it acrobatically folded and inserted itself to one of the slabs.

"Let's handle that family of yours now."

* * *

What happened next was in line with how the day was shaping up to be. After inviting Dursleys into their own house, they were explained how the poltergeist was now destroyed and they should never utter a word about it to anyone. They were also threatened that the Ministry of Magic has added this house to their list of potent magical sites and it'd be under constant supervision. They were harshly chastised for their treatment of him and about the cupboard in particular. A few demonstrations of magic later, even Uncle Vernon was cowering like a pack of sheep would in front of ravenous wolves. It felt good to be on the other side for once. He could certainly understand the appeal of it.

After Norman and Lyanna left, there was a brief staring contest, which Harry didn't lose. If he had beaten the most powerful dark lord this century, then he certainly wouldn't back down to these… what did Lyanna call them? Oh yes, worthless muggles. He was ordered to shift his possessions to Dudley's second bedroom. Harry did so after muttering another "Happy Birthday" to a still bawling Dudley. It took him one round to shift his things upstairs, and another 30 minutes to clean the room. There were too many things that Dudley had broken or didn't like now, that were thrown across the room.

That night, Harry was sitting in a chair sifting through the book gifted to him, when he was visited by an owl for the first time. At first, he had thought that the poltergeist had escaped again, but then remembered that in the wizarding world, his world, owls were actually used for long distance communication. It tapped the window with its legs. He was quite excited as he opened the windows. _I am a wizard._ He paid complete attention to the owl, which looked at him owlishly. She gave a hoot, which he felt communicated her annoyance, and jerked her leg towards him. There was a letter tied to it. Harry carefully untied the letter and opened it eagerly.

 _Harry,_

 _Just checking up on you after the round with your relatives. I want to know if anything of consequence occurred after we left._

 _Send me your reply at once using the owl that delivered this. I will know if you are lying - I can do magic._

 _Your friend,_

 _Lyanna Traymere_

A warm, gentle feeling resided inside of him long into the night. He was extremely grateful for her concern about him. If Lyanna and Norman were any indications, he was going to love the wizarding world. He looked at the new ring on his finger after he finished his letter. It was quite beautiful. "You were a lot of trouble, you know. But I guess I should be thanking you."

For the first time in many days, Harry slept with a smile on his face. He was quite glad that a poltergeist came to haunt him.

* * *

Lyanna was walking leisurely to her current office, one that she shared with Norman. She had done things today that she wasn't exactly allowed to do, but it wasn't anything too out of the books. She was thrilled with how the day went. Today was the momentous day of her life, if there ever is one. She couldn't believe her fortune. She had just met Harry Potter and not just met him, but got into his good graces. She knew people who'd kill for such an opportunity. Here was the most famous wizard of the wizarding world, one who would be a very important player in the future for sure, and he knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. He didn't have anyone to confide in or look up to. He knew nothing about the rules of the game, or what was expected of him. Admittedly, he was just about to start his Hogwarts education, but still, he was Harry Potter! At his age, she was already planning her way to the top. And here he was, handed all the face cards one could ever need. It blew her mind that no one had tried to get on to his good side and ride his coattails for their personal self-serving agenda.

The situation begged the question – what should she do now? This might be the most important thing she would ever get to do. _I have finally drawn a winning hand on the turn._ It was up to her to now capitalize on it. She had already taken the first step – to establish the correspondence, the initiation as they called in Slytherin circles, giving him something valuable, something useful. The letter today will be the catalyst for establishing further communication with him. She was sure he'd appreciate someone to answer the questions he'd bound to have. _And_ _well, there's nothing wrong with using him to accomplish my personal self-serving agenda._

Her letter had reached today, but there were bound to be some wards intercepting his mails. She would have to check up on them. She was planning to send him another letter next week, one that should knock down whatever delusions he had about the wizarding world and about his place in it, and also cement her place as one of his well-wishers. And when she penetrates up to his comfort level, she would make sure he is prepared for anyone else who attempts to do so. It was when she reached the office that her rumination ended.

Sitting on a chair, was a tall old man with horribly flamboyant robes, and a large white mustache, humming a tune that she didn't recognize (Ghostbusters), and solving crosswords in the Daily Prophet.

He beamed at her when she entered and spread his arms. "Ms. Traymere! I just arrived here. It's good to see you looking so particularly jolly… or you were before you saw me."

She forced herself to smile, certain that he could see through it. She wondered again, as she had countless times before, how he always looked so genuine. "I was just surprised, Headmaster. It's good to see you too. What brings you here?" She had a nagging suspicion why he was here. _Idiot._ It was not a suspicion. She could think of just one reason for which he was here, and it brought up an ugly taste in her mouth. _There are always other players in the game. How could you forget?!_

"I am glad. I don't want to take much of your time, as I'm sure you have some very important work to do. But, ahh, what do they say, not everyone gets what they deserve, or something like that anyway. I must be getting old. Come sit, we have a lot to discuss," he said as if it was his office.

* * *

A/N: Hope you liked it :)


	3. Accidents With Magic

Chapter 3 – Accidents With Magic

* * *

 _Our story only makes sense in retrospect. It is not a boring overcomplicated story that doesn't make any sense and never ends. Each moment has a purpose – a purpose of leading us to the climax. How fast we get there depends on how ready we are to learn. What is the difference between you at the prologue and you at the end? Apart from some meaningless physical changes, just the way you think. The way we think determines everything around us – our friends, our family, our jobs, and our life. Every moment, the ones you consider good and the ones you consider bad, shape the way we think. The problem is that we are too embroiled, too disillusioned in our prejudiced view of thinking that we don't realize that there is another way. Our life is all about our carrots and our sticks._

 _I was a creature of habits conditioned by a persistent rebellion against the villains of my story. The bad guys tried to condition me to follow orders – I learned to break them. I was forced to never ask questions – never having my questions answered made me more curious. They tried to curb my imagination – it became my reprieve. They said no backtalk – it has never worked, has it? I suppose, in a way, I should be thanking you, Dursleys… after I serve you justice._

* * *

A month has passed since he had gone from a rag wearing freak to a freaking rag wearing savior of the world.

People observing No. 4 Privet Drive had easily noticed some changes. Lights in both the upper bedrooms could now be seen switched on in the evenings; the scrawny, boorish kid wasn't spending a far too disproportionate of a time in the kitchen as opposed to the stout one; now none of the kids were seen doing any chores; apparently the scrawny kid was now behaving judging from the lack of angry complaints from the generous couple who were kind enough to adopt him.

For Harry though, everything had changed. He lived in a different world - a world where magic was real and normal, and where he was famous, and where a magic book laid atop his bed proving all this still wasn't a dream. He was part of that world earlier too, he just didn't know it. And because he didn't know it, it wasn't real for him.

Suddenly, he wasn't affected when he was called a freak. Suddenly, he wasn't afraid of Dudley, or even Uncle Vernon. He didn't have to be silent when he had to go to the bathroom, or when he was eating, or when his relatives were talking. He didn't even have to wake up early now, but he did it anyway – he liked a little morning air, especially going to the park where people allowed him to play with their dogs.

His school had their final exams on the way. He had tried to do his best in the last couple of weeks and tried to outdo Dudley every chance he got. His teachers were surprised when the untidy, disheveled and imprudent boy suddenly started asking questions, answering questions and laughing whenever his cousin couldn't answer a question or was reprimanded. They were even more surprised when his grades showed some improvements.

A laugh escaped Harry when he thought of what had happened. He had predicted that he would be called out on it, and when asked about it in the class, he explained as he had practiced multiple times, "My cousin is not very smart, you see. His doctor told us that he has confidence issues because of his weight."

Smiling sheepishly, he added, "To help him with it, Aunt Petunia asked me to bring down my grades, and keep silent in the class. She even forbade me to tell my teachers about it – I don't know why she did that," he finished looking at Dudley with fake pity.

He remembered Dudley's confused face clearly as he added, "A week ago, Aunt Petunia told me to stop doing that because Diddykins's doctor said that it could further hinder his mental growth."

Dudley had turned red on hearing "Diddykins". And it turned out he had gotten the gist of what was said because he shouted, "You freak! I am not stupid!" looking exactly that.

The next day, Aunt Petunia had spent a long time in the principal's office and was sweating when she came out. Harry got an earful that night, but even that was toned down.

Dudley, in order to get back at him, tried to flaunt his gifts in the presence of Harry whenever given the chance. Dudley didn't know it, but he was actually more jealous of him for completely different reasons. The git didn't even realize the actual gifts he had. The evenings where he sat alone in his cupboard, or a room now, while the rest of his family were all together – eating a nice meal, or watching a movie, or gushing at Dudley's sub-par scores in school, were the times he desperately wished to be in Dudley's position. He never had someone close to him, someone to talk to, someone who would want to know how his day went or cared for how or what he did. He sometimes interjected cheeky comments or retorts that they wouldn't appreciate precisely for that sense of belonging, to prove that he mattered.

He had to repeat his most frequently used CRUEL rule to get himself out of that recurring funk – feeling sorry for yourself doesn't help.

He had received another letter from Lyanna a few days later. It was… long. It brought a total shift in his thoughts. What he was doing was absurd. What he was thinking was absurd. The whole situation was absurd. The Dursley's didn't matter at all.

 _Hey Harry, how's it going? I felt really sorry for leaving you with no means of communication and with no one to consult to after being hit by what was probably the biggest bombshell of your life. I hope, though, the book I left with you is at least somewhat helpful. I know it can't answer most of the questions you had to be having. However, I promise, that stuff is a gold mine. It has some of the most unique insights and guidelines on magic that you can find. You will definitely get the hang of it by the time you hit your seventh year at Hogwarts. You are probably wondering why I am writing this letter. Well, I want to talk to you, but more importantly, I would like to advise you. You are Harry Potter and you don't know who Harry Potter is or how important he is. It would be a crime for you to rejoin our world without knowing some specific information. Information that you should have already known._

 _You are Harry Potter. Just the other day I was thinking about our fateful encounter like I have been for the past two weeks. I had met HARRY POTTER, and anyone other than you could imagine how surprised I was to actually meet you and realize how different you were from their imaginary dark lord defeater, savior of young girls and killer of rogue dragons. Yes, you read that right. There are several fantasy books and plays about you in Wizarding Britain. I tried to put myself in your shoes and imagined what was the most useful advice I could give you. I couldn't even pinpoint five things. You can't imagine how mindboggling the situation is. I have been living in the wizarding world my whole life, and let me tell you, I am part of the most knowledgeable bunch here, and I have trouble imagining how the situation would pan out. You can't just stroll into our world like some common muggleborn. That would be disastrous, and a terrible waste. You are probably scratching your head right now, and I can't fault you for it._

 _Well, where to begin? Let's start with what some would find the most contentious. I am from Slytherin, the most hated house at Hogwarts. The reason is hard to explain, and it is worth understanding as it explains a lot about our world. It is in part idiocy, part discriminatory, part vengefulness, part righteousness, part prejudice, and part prudence. To understand it properly you'd need to be much more mature than a young child can be expected to be. I can write a whole book explaining it but I will give you a brief overview as it is extremely critical in the wizarding world. It's something that no one is going to explain to you before you are plunged directly into the mix of biased opinions._

 _Among those who oppose us, there is an opinion that most slytherins hate muggleborns and want to prevent them from joining our world; that most are Voldemort sympathizers and joined his forces; that most care heavily about the blood and family of the witch or wizard; that most want to remove the restrictions on dark magic, and prohibitions on using magic in muggle presence. If that was all true, they have the right to hate us. But only some of it is true, and that too for only some of its people, and that too only up to a certain degree. And those opinions are not specific only to slytherins._

 _You have to understand, Harry, the wizarding world is an extremely divided place. Some people support the integration of muggleborns freely into our world without any restrictions, while some acknowledge the threat to our culture and safety if that were to be the case; some support the government control on magical research and its use for their own safety, while some believe it violates their basic rights and want liberal use of magic; some people support muggles and provision for the laws protecting them, while some think those laws are too extreme and believe muggles to be a dire threat to the wizarding world; some want to end the prevailing nepotism in the wizarding world, while some want to preserve the existing system. The list goes on, but you should by now get the gist of it. It's a war between emotion and reason, between change and preservation. There are two sides to a coin, and this hatred persists on both sides of the war. Disliking people not of the same opinion to us is the human story and our history._ _People endorsing this hate are creating divisions in the name of equality and freedom. They usually go about doing everything backward. Trying to do the wise thing without any wisdom, they end up tripping over themselves when things eventually fall apart, and then they blame everyone else for it._

 _It is in fashion now to vilify these beliefs commonly associated with slytherins. When Voldemort stood for the extreme versions of those beliefs, most of his followers were to be found in Slytherin. So, yes there is a sensible reason for people not of the same opinion to hate slytherins. They feel threatened. They don't understand that slytherins feel threatened too. Harry, if I can teach you one thing, it'd be that no one is completely wrong and no one is completely right. Again, I reiterate, not all slytherins ascribe to those opinions, and not everyone in other houses opposes those beliefs. We slytherins pride ourselves on our intelligence. We are pragmatic, we are clever and probably more ambitious than what is good for us. Part of that involves taking advantage of any opportunity we get, and because of the way this world works, it's sometimes at someone else's expense. And people hate that. I have tried to be as unbiased as I could be, and yes, I said I'd make it brief, but alas. You have to form your own opinions, Harry._

 _The same slytherin qualities tell me that there's a massive opportunity here._ _You have to understand how the world sees Harry Potter. You are the most famous wizard alive on the face of this planet. There are books written about you. You have been turned into a big fictional character fighting dragons, saving babies, and being a beacon for justice. Most of the wizards today adore you without knowing a thing about you, while some others probably hate you because they bought into the dark lord's ideals. Your image is an opposition to those ideals, and you still can't comprehend what those ideals are. I can tell how difficult this must be for you to grasp. This all must be so bizarre, so weird for you. I can imagine your brain turning to mush. But things only begin there. When you go into the wizarding world people will stare at you; they will stalk you; they will try to get on your good side, sometimes their motives will be benign, and the rest of the time they will try to take advantage of you._

 _Take this as a piece of heartfelt and sincere advice. You will have to question yourself why people are doing what they are doing. Are they looking at you because you are famous, or because you have a bugger on your face? Don't believe everything people tell you. Form your own opinions. Try to put yourself in their shoes and question why they are doing what they are doing. This probably has never come to your mind, but you must believe what I am saying is true. You might also think it is difficult and probably wrong to think and act that way. You are just 10-years-old (Yes, we know when your birthday is. Some even celebrate it), and few that age are pragmatic and mature enough to do so. However, I believe you have been living on your toes for quite a while, and you have been doing just that when you have to interact with those muggles. You will have to start thinking objectively, to not take anyone's word for anything, and again, form your own opinions._

 _You will act shadowing those opinions. Majority of the people don't understand or think about the consequences of their actions. Normally, it doesn't really matter, because it is just their own life that gets affected. But in your case, your actions will have far reaching consequences. People will pay attention to them. They will feel compelled to follow you. It can be a DISASTER for the wizarding world if you don't think about your actions or come under the influence of some power grabber trying to achieve his/her selfish goals. I will try to put some perspective on it. It will be extremely difficult for you to lead a normal life – you will be a huge celebrity at Hogwarts, you will often be a topic of conversation, and let me tell you, Hogwarts is a haven for rumor mongers. Half of the rumors in there will be about you, at least in your early years, and probably for all seven years depending on what you do. You are that famous. And then, when you enter the real world you will carry that image, that power, and that influence on your peers with you. All these things will depend on how you chose to act under the circumstances. And if you are thinking objectively, you can see what any proud slytherin can see – you are POWERFUL. How you act and behave will shape the thoughts, actions, and lives of many people. People will follow you, focus on you, and will even be obsessed with you. You have the potential to be one of the most important figures of the wizarding world capable of doing great things, shaping the future of the wizarding world for the betterment of its people, or you can be a pawn in someone else's grandiose scheme shedding more misery on the world. Just think about it._

 _To think and plan effectively, you've got to know what you are working with, where you are working, and how it works. I want you to read our history, to know how our world is run and who runs it, and grasp how effective or dysfunctional it is. I want you to understand the ideologies that govern the wizarding world. I want you to believe that you have the power to change it. But, to do that, you have to understand our world, you have to feel for our world, you have to have the ambition and the desire to do so. You don't know anything about the life in our world, you don't know anything about what people do to earn their living, you don't know what they do to have fun or enjoy doing. You don't understand what people desire in our world, or anything about the challenges faced by the wizarding population, you don't understand anything about the cruelty, the corruption, the discrimination rampant in our world, or the things that threaten it. In a way, you are probably in the best position to realize this because you have not been socially conditioned and integrated into our culture, and you don't have strong ties to the muggle world. You are free from the barriers that hinder the realization of the hidden agendas and maladies of our world. It would be a shame to let this opportunity to pass. You have the power to achieve what other people desire to achieve, but don't have the power to. You've been gifted that power. If you so desire, you can change the lives of many people for the better, you can create a lasting impact on the wizarding world. I know you are failing to grasp it fully, and I don't expect you to. I just want you to think about it._

 _I want you to relax. Let it sink in. Absorb it. Reread this letter until you think you understand what I am saying. You have a month and a half before joining Hogwarts. This is extremely important._

 _Now, did you ask yourself what my motivations are for telling you all of this? Question everything, Harry. Always._

 _Your well-wisher,_

 _Lyanna_

* * *

The summer holidays had just started and things were starting to get a lot boring. There was nothing to occupy his time with. He had a magic book and a most illuminating letter, but you can't just read the whole day, even though he did try it.

Today, Harry had offered to make breakfast to Aunt Petunia, who had suspiciously declined. Harry just shrugged and sat at the table, where his uncle sat reading today's newspaper complaining that all the celebrities were so skinny. Dudley was wearing a ridiculous disciplinary outfit of his new school, which required students to carry a stick for the purpose of beating each other, which they said was supposed to make students tougher and be prepared for future hardships. Dudley's parents had forced into his mind that he looked very handsome and all grown up. That was one of the funniest things Harry had heard in a while. He had proposed to Dudley that he should wear it all the time.

They heard the sound from the mailbox clicking and the flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind the paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"What do you say?" Harry whispered. "I should go to pick the letters. Really!" he said excitedly. Harry had no problem picking up the letters, but he didn't mind ruffling the Dursleys. "The invisible wizards say that I should go get them." Harry got up from his seat before Uncle Vernon stopped him.

"No! Dudley, you go get the letter… Come on! … Get up!"

When he still didn't move, Harry said, "I can get a witch to pick it up. She is watching over the house."

Uncle Vernon had to hit Dudley with the stick before he moved his butt. When he came back, he threw the letters at Vernon, before rushing to his room. _Was that an actual tear?!_ This is the first time he had seen him really cry. _I think_ _there is some merit to Stonewall's method of beating students with their sticks_.

As Harry ate his breakfast, he saw his uncle turning pale, suddenly holding a curled parchment. He looked at Petunia, who looked equally pale. _The letter!_

"Petunia, _IT_ has come. What should we do Pet?"

"What do you mean you should do? Give it to me, or else I am calling the wizard police," Harry threatened, standing straight trying to look tall.

"Give it to the boy, Vernon. He already knows about his freakishness, and… look at the address! They _are_ stalking us!" she exclaimed in a shrill voice.

Vernon groaned and resignedly handed the letter to Harry, who couldn't hide his excitement. His Hogwarts letter was here. Hurriedly, he straightened it up and started reading.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

There was a second piece of paper, which listed the things and the books that would be required. Harry was already somewhat familiar with some of these things, having read about them in the book given to him by Lyanna. But it was a supplementary book, not an introductory text, and had left Harry confused many a times. It'd be great to read these books. He had many head-scratching questions about magic and its use. He hoped the books would answer those questions.

Now, the pressing question. _What do they mean by "they await my owl?" Where would he get a frigging owl?!_

"I won't be paying any of my hard-earned money to make you learn any more of this fiendishness," Uncle Vernon muttered maliciously.

"There's no need really. My parents have already paid for me to learn magic. I will be gone on the 1st of September, and you'll only have to see me at the end of June," he tried to cheer them up.

And then added, "Aunt Petunia, do you remember how my mom sent her acceptance letter to Hogwarts? It says here that I should use an owl."

His aunt's lips curled in distaste. She replied, "I remember a teacher of your _freak show_! He came uninvited to our house. Started floating things around to show how different he was – how _better_ he was."

 _Would a professor come here too?_ "Umm… do you know how I can send them an owl? I don't think a professor would come here."

They were looking at him indignantly now. " Call one of the freaks you talk to regularly."

He gave a reluctant nod. "I will. By the way, they can hear you."

They glanced at each other, and as one scurried to their bedroom.

Harry stared into the air with a heavy feeling in his gut. _Ugh_ , _was this a test?_ Was he supposed to send the letter by a normal post office? There was no stamp on it. He was taught the way to reach the ministry people in case of an emergency, but he needed a wand to call them.

* * *

It was 8 in the afternoon when he got up from his bed. He had decided to read the magic book again. He had thought there would be some clues.

His mind was spinning. There were so many different ways to send something from one place to another. There were several fragments of text that hinted at the possibilities of magic that he hadn't noticed in his earlier reads of the book - Magic Gilderoy Lockhart Didn't Learn at Hogwarts. Maybe because he wasn't actually looking for them then. He started noting them in a notebook.

 _Magic is the essence of our world, the defining agent. It is limitless, boundless and endless. Limitations abound only in the problems that we perceive in our mind. Magic accepts no problems and admits only our Imagination, which, like Magic, is limitless._

Harry recalled the amazing things that he had done previously that he couldn't explain. Turning a teacher's hair blue, shrinking a sweater, re-growing his hair, teleporting to the roof of his school. These memories had been circling his thoughts ever since he learned of magic. At the time, he wasn't aware of them, but he was sure that somehow, he had imagined them before they happened. He tried imagining an owl coming to pick a letter in many different ways - closing his eyes, joining his hands, thrusting his hands in the air. Nothing happened. _Ugh!_

 _Our Magic is shaped by our Will and Wisdom. Our Thought and Belief can combine into a power-surge that can literally move mountains. Let go of the thoughts that created the problem, and hear the Thoughts that know the answer. If you believe you can do it, you can do it. Our Wisdom is inherent – when you let go of the fear mongering and problem-creating self, you will be aware of your Wisdom._

Harry was confused. Wisdom? Knowing what is right, and what is not? That meant being smart, didn't it? Harry considered himself to be very smart. Of course, he only had the Dursleys as a measure so he could be wrong. He wrote his acceptance letter and willed it to appear at Hogwarts wherever they collected their letters. Then he willed desperately. Then he got on to his knees and willed. After an hour passed, the letter was still sitting firmly in front of him. What was the problem here? He read the note again. Thought and belief? How can he believe in something he hadn't done before? Thinking he can do it, and believing he can do it wasn't the same. _Ugh!_

 _Magic is integral to your life. You should be as intimate with Magic as you are with your Thoughts. Ask Magic to help you in trivial things. Ask it to help clean the room, ask it to help you dress, ask it to help clean your teeth, ask it to help when you are talking to someone. The more you ask for Magic, the more you can ask for Magic. Your unwillingness to make an effort has to be replaced by Willingness. No effort, however unsuccessful it seems, is ever wasted._

"Oh, Holy Magic, I ask you to deliver this letter for me… Magic! Listen to me asking for help." Harry was feeling very awkward. "Magic, please send me an owl… or send this letter to Hogwarts." Harry hesitated; he had no belief in what he was asking. Doing magic was difficult! _Unwillingness should be replaced by willingness_. He tried again with a false conviction. He tried again. _No effort is ever wasted._ At least, he was not wasting his time, according to the author. Harry seriously hoped this author wasn't a fraud like many muggle authors out there. He realized that he also had to believe in this author when he says that magic works based upon our belief in it. _Ugh!_

 _We use wands only because we have not found any alternatives to it. We have become so accustomed to using our wands to bend Magic to our Will, that it has bound our Will to it. That is the reason that children, whose Will runs free, are so prone to doing Wandless Magic. To learn something new, you have to forget your old false learnings. Wandless Magic is difficult because we think it is difficult._

It all came down to his willpower. _It is difficult because we think it is difficult?_ This author really used a lot of mumbo-jumbos. At least the author was saying that a wand wasn't compulsory for this. Harry tried again. This. Wasn't. Working!

 _The more you learn to control Magic, the more you can learn to control Magic. The only barriers to it are the control we have on the tools – our wands, the incantations, wand movements, Emotion, Imagination, Will, and Belief - using which we connect to Magic and control it. The wands the caster uses have limits on the amount of Magic that they can control, and have predilections to certain types of Magic. The incantations and wand movements help the caster to signify the Magic they want to use and align their Belief with it. But these incantations and wand movements have limits in their ability to represent the form of Magic. Your ability to control your Emotion, Imagination, Will, and Belief is limitless. These are the four pillars, on which improvements should be strived for in order to connect more to your Magic. There are potions, physical exercises, rituals, and techniques to help you achieve that. But, perhaps the most beneficial technique that I can recommend is meditation, which aids on all four levels._

He tried and tried and tried and tried all evening. He tried summoning an owl; he tried sending the letter on its own; he tried to transfigure an owl from a nearby book, even though he hadn't even seen a transfiguration yet. The more he failed the more frustrated he got. When he got frustrated, he realized that this would further prevent him from succeeding. Then he tried to control his frustration and got even more frustrated when he couldn't. He tried meditating, but it wasn't having any noticeable effect. Still, he tried.

' _A dog has got to bark, a lion has got to roar, and a man has got to wonder why? why? why?_

 _The dog goes to sleep, the lion goes to eat, and the man says he understands'_

 _But you do not understand. No one understands. Don't let your tiny brain put limits to your understanding of magic. Believe that you do not understand, and let Magic define everything through you, and your ability to control Magic will increase manifolds._

It was 1 AM when he finally stopped and collapsed onto his bed, exhausted, wishing for an owl to appear. His dreams were filled with him sending letters using a spotted golden owl to everyone he knew – his school teachers, the Prime Minister of England, the Queen, even to Mrs. Figg.

It was early in the morning the next day when he woke up. His body was protesting waking up this early, but his thoughts came alive by the sound of someone tapping on his window. _Someone is tapping on my window!_ He immediately jumped into a sitting position, and saw a beautiful, golden owl, with black dots on its wings. He laughed euphorically. The owl continued rapping against the window. Harry whooped and rushed to open the window. It looked at him expectantly. Harry looked at it expectantly. Moments passed.

"Umm, can you deliver a letter for me to Hogwarts?"

The black pupils looked at him unblinkingly. Hoot. Hoot. As if he had offended it.

"Have you been to Hogwarts before?"

Hoot. Harry somehow knew that the owl was saying no.

"Will you be able to carry the letter there without a proper address?"

Hoot. This one was forceful, and then, averting its eyes, it looked around the room. It rushed to the table where Harry had written his letter last night, picked it, and flew away with another hoot to Harry.

Harry blinked. He wasn't expecting this, but he wasn't sure what he was expecting. Happiness was bubbling inside Harry, and his stomach even growled. _Oh, I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday._ Executing a jig, he went to the kitchen to make himself something to eat.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was sitting in a vast room jam-packed with trinkets and objects of all kinds, color, and sizes. There was a phoenix perched atop a golden stand. The headmaster was sitting behind a clean black desk on a well-cushioned seat. There was a letter positioned on the top of the table.

 _Hello Professor McGonagall,_

 _I have received my Hogwarts acceptance letter and I am interested in attending this school._

 _I became aware of the magical world and magic just recently, and do not know where to buy the equipment and the books required for the school. It would be extremely helpful if you could send a Hogwarts representative to aid me in buying these things._

 _Another important thing that I should mention is that my relatives, with whom I am staying, are hesitant to pay for any magical equipment or any fee that Hogwarts charges. I was told my parents, before their death, had collected a small fortune, and that the Potter family was wealthy. I am not sure how to access my inheritance. I would be very grateful if you could also help me with this._

 _Thank you,_

 _Harry Potter_

 _P.S. You should add another option for students to send a reply. Some students don't have an owl to send a letter. If you already have another option, you should explain it in the letter._

"I told you, Albus. They are the worst sort of muggles you can find. They have money, I gather. Why would they refuse to pay for their nephew's education?" Minerva shook her head, seething. She felt uneasy about what else these muggles had done to Harry.

"Yes, Minerva. You were right then, and are right now," Albus smiled. "I had hoped that raising a wizard would help them as much as it would help Harry. But it seems I was asking too much of them. Regrettably, there is nothing we can do now. From what I hear, however, things are not as unwelcoming as they could have been. Harry has grown up to be a fine young man."

"Has he, Albus? Have you seen him recently?"

Albus shook his head. "Arabella has been keeping an eye on him for me. She was always full of praise for him. But she did say that he didn't like any of her cats," Albus laughed.

"Stop laughing Albus. This is no laughing matter. Who in their right mind can't like a cat? Oh, I am sure he hasn't met the right cat yet. I will be taking him to Diagon Alley tomorrow. I think I may even buy one for him."

She was glad to hear that he was doing well. She had always liked Arabella. Much like other squibs, she had a nice head on her shoulders. "And what's this about him not knowing about the magical world? Those nasty muggles didn't tell him about who he was!" her nose flared. "Who told him about it then?"

"Ah, Harry had quite an adventure last month," his eyes twinkled. "The ministry had to send some wizards to handle a bout of accidental magic."

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "That must have been quite the experience for him."

"I heard that he handled it quite well. He was also full of questions about our world. Try to explain them to him as best as you can, will you?" Albus asked her expectantly. Seeing her nod, he added with a twinkle in his eyes, "How do you think he sent the letter?"

Minerva blinked, feeling bewildered. "I don't know. The letter was sitting on my desk when I came back after breakfast. Surely an owl dropped it off. How would he get an owl, though?"

Albus started laughing.

"Why are you laughing, Albus? It's not funny."

"Oh, I think it's quite hilarious."

Suddenly, an image of James Potter and his group causing mayhem came into her mind. An ominous feeling began to rise in her.

* * *

Harry was wandering wondering. After having his breakfast, he had decided to steer clear of Aunt Petunia that day. There were more important things on his mind as he went out for a stroll through the park. Like that owl, magic, Hogwarts, magic, Gilderoy Lockhart, magic, being famous, magic, his baggy clothes, magic, the letter, magic, the children playing in the park, magic, the dog wagging its tail, magic, why was Sunday named Sunday, and of course, magic.

He was sitting on a bench looking at the entrancing if formalized beauty of the park. A slight breeze was rustling the leaves of the trees making them fall to the solid ground one by one, and beams of sunlight were glowing on his skin. Children were playing on the swings, or just running around. Their parents were talking among themselves. Some families were sitting under a tree, having a picnic in the park. Harry smiled at the blissful atmosphere, in contrast to the negative energy reigning at his house at such moments.

He wondered if it would be like this at Hogwarts. He'd be living with children like him away from Dudley and his friends stopping him from making any friend or having any fun. He recalled the letter from Lyanna. Well, they won't be like him, will they? He would be famous there. What luck he had. He just wanted to be normal, learning magic, making friends, and growing up to make a name for himself. He didn't want his name to be already known. He didn't know how to be famous. He didn't want to live as though he was a detective. He imagined it would be like being the prince attending a school. He shuddered. On the one hand, everyone would pay attention to him, and on the other hand, everyone would pay attention to him. Well, he'd just have to live with that, making sure he acted like someone worth paying attention to. It would be infinitely better than living here.

Speaking of that, he wasn't sure if that owl had delivered his letter. His gut was telling him that it did, and usually, he trusted his gut feeling. _How did it come this morning anyway?_ Was it all his attempts at magic that caused it to fly in this morning, or did someone from Hogwarts sent it, realizing that he would have no way to send a reply? If it was the former, this was the first time he had consciously performed magic, and Hogwarts was very negligent for a magic school. His gut was telling him that owl appeared because of him. He sighed. And he didn't know how he had done that. _Why couldn't things ever be simple?_

* * *

A/N - Things would never be simple for Harry. That would be boring.


	4. The First Overture

Chapter 4 - The First Overture

* * *

 _The goal is to go from where you are to where you want to be. Courage forms the backbone of this venture. Not losing your will to go on after successive failures is courage. Not fearing failures is courage. Admitting that you need to change and act differently is courage. You will not achieve your lofty ambitions by being who you are. You need to become the person capable of achieving those lofty ambitions. That needs courage. Let courage in and you will succeed._

 _You will always find a way to survive non-fatal scenarios. Only the means would vary – Fight or flight. I was the model gryffindor. I chose courage and fought my fear. He was the dark lord. He let fear rule him and fought everything._

* * *

It was the morning of 26th of July, and Harry was meditating, or rather, was failing at meditating. He didn't know what the problem was. No matter how hard he tried, the damn thoughts wouldn't stop. The book went along the line of "clearing his mind", but rather inconveniently forgot to mention just how to do that.

' _It is harder to do nothing than to do something.'_

Yes, it was a lot harder. The main issue was that he didn't know how not to think. If he tried to ignore one thought another popped up, ignoring which would result in another, then another, and then he started thinking about how to stop thinking. It was infuriating. He usually gave up after a while.

His gaze turned to the white owl sleeping on the top of a chair, and his annoyance vanished. He was surprised, and in equal amount, apprehensive when it came flying last night with a letter clutched in its claws. But he jumped for joy when he saw that the letter was different from what he had sent. It was written on a parchment in a tidy scrawl and was from Professor McGonagall. He did a little dance after reading it and then realized that the owl was still sitting on the windowsill. He guessed that he indeed had something to do with the owl's appearance that morning. When asked whether it wanted to stay with him, it hooted and promptly flew out of the window. Harry somehow knew it was going to come back.

He looked around his room trying to find something to do. He had already gone through Dudley's broken toys and estranged books. There was nothing interesting there. There were a few comics scattering the shelf, which were good, but he had already read them twice over. There were a few crayons lying on the table on the top of a notebook on which was drawn a strange creature the size of a baby with blue colored skin, dressed like it was going to an award ceremony but was incongruously wearing a cowboy hat. Yes, boredom had caused him to pick up drawing too.

 _Great. I can't do nothing, and I can't think of anything to do too._ He turned to the book lying on his bed for the umptieth time.

An hour or so later, his attention was drawn to the sound of the doorbell ringing. Sounds of someone heavy running came from downstairs, which could only be Dudley, excited to meet junior bullies Piers and Malcolm, who came daily around this time. He was surprised when he didn't hear a shout of 'Big D!'. Instead, he heard Dudley shouting, "MOM! MOOOOM!"

Harry rushed out of his room and reached the top of the stairs. A woman, no, a witch was standing at the door. Everything about her screamed witch. Petunia had rushed to Dudley's side and was gaping at the witch.

"That was not the reception I was expecting," the witch stared sternly at Dudley, a look Harry recognized easily having been on the receiving end of it his whole life. "Though, I guess I did not expect much."

Turning to Aunt Petunia, she said, "You must be Petunia. I am Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was looking forward to meeting you."

Aunt Petunia's eyebrows widened. Harry could feel her struggling to think of anything to say to that.

"Can you call Mr. Potter? We have some important business to discuss about Hogwarts. I am sure you know all about it." She paused for a second and added, "May I come in? I am not sure this is the proper place to have this conversation."

Realizing that they were standing in the doorway, and anyone walking across the street can see them, she invited her in, and shouted, "Boy! Someone from your _school_ has come to meet you." She turned her hostile face to see Harry already standing at the top of the stairs.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said skipping two steps at a time. He smiled at the professor. "Hello, Deputy Headmistress! I was waiting to meet you. I have so many questions about Hogwarts!"

Professor McGonagall stiffened as he approached her, looking him over.

"Would you like anything to drink? Or to eat?" he asked after a few moments. He wanted to make a good impression on the deputy headmistress of his new school.

"No, thank you, Mr. Potter." She crinkled her nose as she looked at him. "Shall we go to the living room. This shouldn't take much time," she said inviting herself to the living room.

Harry followed her and sat on the chair opposite to her. "Isn't your aunt going to join us?" the professor asked him looking at his aunt and cousin who were still staring at them from the hall.

"They try to stay away from anything magical."

The professor gave him a searching look and then straightened. "Mrs. Dursley, could you please join us? This discussion involves you too since _you are Mr. Potter's guardian_."

There was a touch of steel in the professor's voice that made it hard to refuse her. Aunt Petunia wobbled to sit on the sofa, motioning to Dudley to go to his room, which he did eagerly, for the first time if Harry's memory served right.

"Well Mr. Potter, now that we are properly seated, we need to arrange your admission to Hogwarts. You indicated in your letter that you are already aware of magic and the magical world. I assume your _aunt_ told you about it?" She had framed it as a question compelling Harry to comment on it.

"Um, no I just came to know about magic last month. Ha-ha, you know, last month... Ow" A sharp pain had erupted in his throat. His eyes widened. _The contract!_

He coughed. "I am sorry. I need a glass of water." He avoided the professor's eyes, got up and rushed to the kitchen.

 _How could I be so stupid? Think Harry, think. Who told me about magic?_

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" came the professor's voice laced with alarm.

"Sorry. Something must have caught in my throat. I am alright," replied Harry. His mind raced as he filled a glass with water.

 _I can't mention the poltergeist or the ministry. But Aunt Petunia knows! Think! How can I get out of this?_

He coughed again and took another sip of water.

"Is there any problem?"

"No! I was just bringing a glass of water for you too."

 _Think of something! She had just declined an offer for a drink. Dammit!_

"There's no need for that, Mr. Potter. I didn't have to walk much to come here." _Think something else!_

 _Who could have told Harry Potter that he was a wizard?!_ Harry felt like hitting his head. _Anyone could have told Harry Potter._

"Ok. Aunt Petunia! Do you need some water?"

 _I remember a weird man in a pointed hat bowing to me once._

"No!" came her shrill voice.

 _And Aunt Petunia was there too. I hope she remembers the ministry's warnings._

Harry hurried back to the living room, not wanting to test their patience anymore.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting, Professor," Harry said sitting down.

"Understandable, Mr. Potter," she said inspecting him. She added after a few moments, "You were telling how you came to know about our world."

 _Dammit._ "Haha, it's a funny story. Do you remember, Aunt Petunia, we were shopping once and a short man in a hat same as the professor's bowed to us," Harry said to his aunt scratching his ring. He felt very weird talking to her in such a familiar way.

Aunt Petunia looked like she had just swallowed a sour lemon.

"Enough, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall peered down at him with narrowed eyes. "There's no need to be embarrassed. You don't get blamed for accidental magic. Although it is rare for the ministry to have to intervene, as the name suggests, it was completely accidental."

 _What?_ "Oh, ok. Sorry."

Professor McGonagall motioned with her hands. "Go on, Mr. Potter. What did the ministry people tell you?" _Oh! So much for making a good impression._ _Dammit, he must look like Dudley right now._

"They told me about magic and the wizarding world. They also told me about my parents, about You-Know-Who, about Harry Potter, umm, me, and how I defeated him and got this scar, and also a little of Hogwarts."

The professor nodded. "Good. Since you are already aware of the essentials, I will skip them." She turned to Aunt Petunia. "My question to you, Mrs. Dursley, is why you withheld this information from him? I am sure Dumbledore explained it to you in the letter," she asked Aunt Petunia, her voice hard.

His Aunt gulped, and answered awkwardly, "We wanted him to lead a normal life… well, as normal as he could have, without spoiling my Dudley. My sister also didn't know about magic till she was 10, so I am sure it isn't a problem."

The Professor scoffed, "Well, of course, it isn't a problem. Otherwise, we would have sent someone to ensure that he knew about his heritage. I wanted to listen to your reasoning Mrs. Dursley and to be frank, I am disappointed. Your sister too was a witch. I would have hoped that you didn't see him any different than your son."

Aunt Petunia was about to reply, but the professor's gaze snubbed her in favor of him. "Mr. Potter, you need to have a basic understanding of the wizarding world before attending Hogwarts. I am not going to explain everything to you considering that it will take quite a while. Instead, I'll give you a Wizarding World Integration set that we give to muggleborns that explains everything you need to know." She put her hands in one of her pockets and took out a miniature set of thin books bundled together. She tapped them with a wand that had suddenly appeared in her right hand, and the books enlarged to their proper size.

"Wow," Harry breathed out at the same time as his aunt made a strangled noise.

"You are expected to read them thoroughly before you attend Hogwarts. However, I will answer any question that you have while we are shopping for your school books and equipment."

Harry nodded heartily eager to know more about the wizarding world and understand it better, and took the set from her, and examined them to find any other magical features.

"We should also talk about your expenses for Hogwarts – everything including your supplies, wand, and books approximately amounts to 170 Galleons, which will be about 850 Pounds. We should add some cushion here in case we need to buy something else."

"Umm, Professor… I don't know how to get the money that my parents left for me. Do you know how I can use it?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, I have brought your vault key. But I am sure, you Aunt and Uncle would happily pay for your education. You are their _nephew_ , and it will also save us some time."

Harry had to force himself not to laugh. This was going to be interesting. His Aunt's face was already showing her disgust.

"We won't pay for him learning… _this!_ We need to save for Dudley's education and his future. Besides, he can use the money left by his parents."

The professor pursed her lips, her face showing disapproval. "That won't be a problem," she said in a low voice. "Mr. Potter, I can see that you might not be aware of the etiquette and conduct a reputable institute like Hogwarts expects. We don't accept any kind of oppressive or cruel behavior towards others."

His aunt's already skinny face seemed to become gaunter.

"We also expect you to dress appropriately. I am not an expert in muggle clothing, but I can surmise that your clothes would be inappropriate anywhere in the world. Do you have any other presentable clothes?"

Harry fidgeted as he shook his head. _This was one strict teacher._

The professor sighed, "You are not the one that should be embarrassed, Mr. Potter. It is not your fault." She said in a soft voice and narrowed her eyes at his Aunt. "It is the responsibility of a guardian to care for their children and give them a proper upbringing. It is evident that this was not the case here. I will report this to Professor Dumbledore, and to the Ministry of Magic if required."

Aunt Petunia gulped and seemed to be having an internal struggle. "We did all we could. We took him in, fed him, gave him a roof to live under. And you… _you_ …" She exclaimed, finally affronted. "How dare _you?!_ How dare you throw such accusations at us? No one from your world helped him, did they? Ungrateful _freaks!_ Go and take him with you. We don't want him here. He has always been a burden, a curse, an _abnormality_ you sent to ruin our normal lives!" She was screeching by the end of it.

Harry's eyes widened as her words rung in his ears. He expected this from his uncle, who had a habit of shouting and cursing him, but this was the first time he had seen his aunt being so vocal, especially in front of others. _What must Professor McGonagall think…_ He tried not to think of how it made him look.

Professor McGonagall stomped her foot on the ground. " _Never in my life_ …" she squinted her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands. Suddenly, her wand appeared in her hand. She flicked it and a red envelope, a parchment, and a quill appeared, floating in the air.

"Never would I have thought that we would be leaving Lily and James' son with such… such _detestable_ muggles," her voice carried her indignation and vehemence, which the quill was managing to transcribe by varying its scrawl. "They have no shame! I told you. I told you back then that they were the worst sort of muggles you can find, but I didn't know they would treat Harry so _horribly._ You are Lily's _sister_!" the professor sniffed. "Oh, I am mortified that her son is living with such monsters. Who would do this to a _child?_ It will be a cold day in hell before I allow Harry to be treated like this by _these_ muggles! Lily must be so angry at us." Another sniff. "They dress him in old filthy rags like a house elf. And he is so thin, Albus! They call him a freak, an abnormal child, a _curse_ to his face. That too in front of me! And, I haven't even been 20 minutes _here_. Worst of all, they are proud of what they are doing! Who knows what else these disgusting creatures must have done?" His aunt looked shocked at her reaction and was gaping at the scene. "I am taking Harry to buy him his Hogwarts supplies. You better have a good reason for Harry to stay here after this! I would be waiting for your answer."

With that, the parchment folded itself, and the envelope enveloped it. Without looking at his aunt, the professor waved her wand towards the kitchen, and a glass came floating near them, which soon changed itself… no transfigured to an owl. The 'owl' picked up the red envelope and flew out of the kitchen window.

His aunt was shaking. "What did you –"

The professor turned to face his Aunt. "Stop – I don't want to listen to your voice again!"

She then flicked her wand in his direction. Harry jumped. His clothes shrank and started changing to fit into Harry's figure. "Come on, Harry. We'll discuss the rest away from here. Where's your bedroom?"

Harry automatically pointed to it upstairs. The books she gave Harry were snatched from his grasp, flew to his bedroom's direction, moved past the door, and the door was closed shut.

* * *

Professor McGonagall was walking briskly a few streets away from his house. Harry's feet worked on their own as he followed the professor, while his mind replayed the past few minutes over and over. He had always been stepped upon, smacked down verbally like he was some rodent, but it had never happened in front of a stranger. He didn't know how to act now with said stranger. He always knew that what they did to him was unfair and wrong, but there was never anyone present to validate those opinions. Walking in front of him was a stranger feeling as offended as he thought one should be by how he was treated.

"Mr. Potter, would you please wait here a few moments? I am afraid I must retrieve something from my house."

She disappeared in a blur and a pop by the time Harry began to nod. _Woah! Was that apparition?_ Even in this muddled state, Harry had no trouble appreciating the splendor of magic. He recalled how a few years back he had done the same thing accidentally.

There was another pop and the professor materialized at the same spot.

"I am sorry you had to witness that, Mr. Potter. I couldn't stand your aunt. I also apologize if it offended you."

"What? It didn't offend me! I actually wanted to apologize to you for my Aunt's behavior. They have never liked me or anyone who wanted to talk with me," Harry said not meeting her eyes.

"Mr. Potter, I repeat again, your relatives are one of the most despicable human beings I have ever met. You are in no way to blame for what they have done to you, or anyone else for that matter. Do you understand?"

On Harry's nod, she handed him a vial of grey liquid. "Drink this, Mr. Potter. It will calm your emotions."

Harry cautiously took a sip of the potion. It was sour, but not too much. As he gulped the liquid, he felt a prickling sensation pass through his stomach to his head. He felt a slight vibration in his forehead… it felt good. He chucked the rest of the drink down. He could actually feel his mind clearing like a wind was blowing the dark clouds away. His head felt more open like he wasn't now confined in a small space. An urge to laugh bubbled up in him.

"Woah, this is great! I mean the taste sucks, but this is gooood," Harry said as he felt his head as if it had expanded.

"I am glad this worked for you – this potion doesn't work for everyone," the professor said as she smiled at him.

"Thank God! What is this potion called, professor? I will definitely learn to make it. Does everyone at Hogwarts drink this? I mean those for whom this works. Oh, I can't wait to go to Hogwarts!"

The professor shook her head. "No, Mr. Potter. You are not allowed to take any potion you make at Hogwarts without supervision. It can be extremely dangerous. Also, potions are never taken regularly, as they are quite addicting, and believe me, you don't want to become addicted to one of these. A year stay at Mungo's, the magical hospital, would be the least of your worries."

Harry was silent as he processed it as she led him to a crossing and raised her wand. Harry, who was expecting to see some brilliant magic spell, was disappointed when nothing happened.

"I have one final question about your relatives, Mr. Potter. Did they ever hit you before? Tell me the truth. I will know if you don't."

"No… Umm, sometimes. Sometimes when I burn the food, Aunt Petunia would hit me with a pan… not constantly, just once or twice… And my Uncle would smack me on the head when I'd do something weird. But I dodge mostly – I am too fast for them." He smirked then. "Now though, after I found out about magic, they are afraid of me. They leave me alone most of the time. And I would be at Hogwarts 10 months every year! So, it isn't so bad."

Harry could tell that she was relieved by the answer. He always wanted to have someone who worried about him, but now it was also making him feel bad in a sense as if he was being selfish.

BANG! There was a flash of light. Harry jumped back and rubbed his eyes.

Professor McGonagall had a pleased smile on her face as he gaped at the large purple bus that had appeared in front of him. 'The Knight Bus' was written on its side in large golden letters. A tall skinny boy, much like him, but a few years older than him, appeared on the front door leaning to one side.

"Name's Stan! Welcom' to the Knight Bus. Come abor'," he paused at seeing the professor. "Oh, It's you Professur! What did ye call this bus fur?" he asked with what Harry thought was a touch of annoyance in his tone.

"Hello, Mr. Shunpike. I am on Hogwarts duty - had to take Mr. Thomas to buy his Hogwarts supplies. I see that you are working here now." The professor raised her eyebrows. "I thought you'd be staying away from anything muggle after… the last incident."

"Well, I'm stayin' away, aren't I? They can't notice nothin' e'en if it's in front of their eyes. Well, ye better come in quick if ye want me to stay away from them," he replied contemptuously.

The professor sighed and nudged Harry to climb the bus. The interior of the bus wasn't anything like Harry imagined it would be. There were no seats within. Beds were scattered all over the floor, which seemed to be made of wood. The inside was illuminated by numerous candles, which were burning on wooden supports besides each bed. A spiral staircase was present behind the driver's… armchair, which seemed to be reaching the upper floors. In the rear end, two children were playing some card game, while a woman was lying on the bed near them.

"Stan, that wasn't a proper greeting again! We have to look professional to our customers," the elderly driver said peering over them from the top of his glasses.

"Ar, sorry Ern. Forgot again," Stan said scratching his head.

"Well, ask them where they want to go. It isn't polite. We don't have many customers this morning as it is."

"Right! Ye 'eard 'im," Stan said impolitely.

"Take us to The Leaky Cauldron, please. How much would it be?"

"Eleven Sickles," said Stan, "but for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color of your choice."

The professor picked some coins from a pouch and shoved it into the conductor's hands. There was a small explosion in the back followed by laughs by the children.

"Come on. Let's go to the upper floor. Hopefully, it'd be more pleasant."

On the first floor, two men in dark shabby clothes, with their face hidden in cowls, were speaking with each other in hushed tones. They stopped on noticing them. The professor pushed him to the second floor and released her breath on seeing that it was empty.

"This will do," she said to Stan, who had followed them.

"O'course. Pull this strin' if ye need anythin'," he said gruffly and left.

"We should get seated quickly." Harry followed her to the first bed on the right, amazed at what was happening.

He soon understood her rush when there was another BANG, and Harry had to grip the bed-stand tightly to remain seated. Looking out of the window, he saw that they were now careening now on a completely different street. They were moving very speedily, regardless of the traffic. They were somehow escaping all crashes, and things in their way were moving apart automatically.

"What is this bus?" he croaked out to the professor.

The professor laughed, though she was not looking too well herself. "This is the emergency transport bus for wizards. But mostly just squibs or underage wizards use it, as there are other more comfortable means to get around usually. I could have apparated you myself, but I wanted you to experience this –" she stopped and gripped the bed-stand as the bus came to a halt.

Harry could feel the rear portion of bus lift in the air from the change in inertia. He seriously hoped they would not flip over.

"You wanted me to experience this! Oh, you wanted me to make my first journey into the magical world in such discomfort? And how is the bus not crashing with anything? This thing seems to be moving at the speed of a jet plane!" Truth be told, he was having fun.

"Oh no, Mr. Potter! That wasn't my reason for traveling by the Knight Bus. You are currently underage, so this is the most suitable means of travel for you. As for not crashing, you will find that magic can do most of the things you can imagine," she said with a twist of her lips.

"Wow! And muggles don't notice this? How long do you have to study to cast such spells?" Harry asked.

"Hogwarts' education is quite exhaustive Mr. Potter. Seven years in Hogwarts, and you will be taught almost everything to be able to cast any type of spell. But, not everyone can cast such spells. Most witches and wizards are only able to cast basic spells. They mostly become proficient in the area they have an interest in. I have learned that muggleborns -" she stopped again as the bus burst into speed again.

Bringing a handkerchief to her mouth, she said, "Let's talk once we reach The Leaky Cauldron. This blasted bus is making me nauseous."

Harry wondered whether there was any way for magic to cure her nausea. The bus stopped two more times before Stan appeared again to call them down.

* * *

Harry was gaping again. Standing in front of them were two monsters… creatures… something, that were guarding huge polished doors to a massive white edifice that stretched the width of Diagon Alley. They looked like the monsters from Dudley's computer games, glaring at everyone and ready to attack anyone with their sharp gilded swords at a moment's notice.

Professor McGonagall looked amused at his expression. "They are Goblins. They are intelligent creatures which appear human but are not humans. They are a completely different species. They have their own magic and they live separately from us. Due to their skills in metalsmithing, and their skills with money and finances, they control the wizarding economy to a large extent, minting coins, and regulating taxes and interests on these coins. They are very clever and are untrusting of humans, so I advise you to tread carefully in front of them, and treat them with respect."

Harry stared gobsmacked at her and then at the goblins. One of them happened to look at him at that instant and bared its teeth at him. It looked like it was grinning, but he couldn't tell by the pointy teeth it was showing. He froze. A completely different species. His brain was sounding off many alarms.

"What do they _eat?_ "

The professor _laughed._ "Not us, Mr. Potter. Just normal human food, with the addition of fungi and roots."

Harry felt a little relieved. He would have accepted any answer by now. He had watched some movies where they were horrible creatures and were always out for human blood. He had never heard of a goblin handling and coining money in any story. He knew that controlling the economy must mean that they are powerful. "I didn't see any goblin in the alley. What is their role in our world? And how powerful are they?"

"Well, like I told you before, they control the wizarding bank, Gringotts to a large extent. Apart from it, you will see very little of them in the wizarding world. As for how powerful, I must warn you, they are almost as powerful as wizards, but you must not treat them as an inferior class. They don't look eye to eye with us, and you will study at Hogwarts about how there have been many wars between us, often for the silliest of reasons, causing huge losses to both sides. They are very skilled warriors and can provide impeccable security. That's why we let them handle our money. One would have to be a fool to try to rob Gringotts. In fact, it has never been robbed. Come – the guards are becoming wary now."

He was feeling like a fool rushing to a battle ill-equipped, but withdrawing his money proved to be relatively straightforward. If you count watching hundreds of Goblins working on counters, and taking his money out of the huge pile of coins - from a vault - after using a cart running on rails - to reach deep within the London underground, as straightforward. He was also pleasantly surprised by how the goblins acted. They didn't shout at them, or threatened them, or pointed their swords at them. They just sneered, and spoke with a lazy drawl, as if they were talking to Dudley.

They were again walking in the alley which captivated Harry still. Children were budging about with their families, witches and wizards were rushing around to complete their tasks. Several stalls lined the side of the streets amid shops, both small and big, selling bizarre stuff, which you'd guess to be present in a weird dungeons and dragons game. Self-cleaning kits, animated chess boards, flutes and musical instruments that played on their own – who'd have thought this stuff was sold in London, hidden from the general populace by magic.

The professor had cast some sort of spell to hide his scar. He was afraid it'd be like this. Wizards far into their old age saw him as some kind of miracle and seemed to worship the grounds he walked on. As soon as they entered the Leaky Cauldron, after repeatedly insisting to Stan that they didn't need the hot chocolate that he had forgotten to give them, they were swarmed by the people present in what turned out to be a dark scruffy pub - the kind you see in movies where shady dealings take place and criminals pass their time. Professor McGonagall had her wand in her hands and had to threaten them thrice before they were willing to leave his side. Overall, it would have been quite overwhelming if Harry hadn't taken that calming potion.

He didn't know how to feel about his scar – on one hand it was a sign that he survived the most powerful dark lord to grace this country, and on the other hand, it was a sign of the night his parents were killed. Never feeling sad about himself was one of his CRUEL rules, so he chose the former.

"Most wizards never interact with the muggle world, so their knowledge of its culture and people is inadequate at best. In fact, many see muggle tools like televisions, airplanes, movie theaters with the same disbelief as muggles see magic. You also might see some of our practices, supplies, and tools as strange. But know that to us they are as normal as eating. You are part of this world now, so you should try to blend in here. As you can see we are attracting attention – we should get you some robes first."

The robe shop – Madam Malkin Robes for All Occasions was just next to Gringotts.

"Mr. Potter, would you be willing to go alone to buy your apparels? I am afraid I am going to need a drink. Riding on Gringotts carts, that too after traveling in the Knight Bus, is making my head spin. Strangely, I feel a drink would be the best cure."

Harry was a bit nervous about meeting another person from the wizarding world, but he nodded.

"Madam Malkin is a very accommodating person - she would get you what you need. Be sure to ask her for basic muggle clothing too. Merlin knows you need them."

Harry entered the robe shop with slight trepidation. Who knew what surprises lie in this store for him. He saw a smiling, chubby woman dressed in all purple sitting on a chair in the back of the shop. A hunky boy stood near her being tended by another witch. There was nothing distinctly magical going around in here. The witch motioned him to come in.

"Hello dear. Hogwarts?" On Harry's nod, she continued. "We get a lot of them this time of the year. Come stand on this stool, and I'll get you your robes in a jiffy."

The bulky boy sneered at Harry as the witch slipped a black robe over his head.

"You a muggleborn?" he asked with narrowed eyes. "Of course, you are! You look like a gnome in the back of my garden," he stated, sneering. "The population of your kind is increasing every year!" He growled showing his large dirty yellow teeth.

Harry didn't need to be a genius to know that he was being insulted for being a muggleborn. He was too used to this behavior to allow this in the magical world too, but the boy looked to be a few years older than him, and he didn't want to do something which he might regret. Like he usually did with Uncle Vernon, he held his tongue.

The boy continued on seeing that Harry was ignoring him. "What? Forgot your tongue with the muggles. Good riddance, I suppose. Wish others of your sort were like you. Now, if only we could do something about the smell." He twisted his face managing to look even uglier.

Harry turned to Madam Malkin. "Professor McGonagall will be coming here in a minute. She said that you can help me get some muggle clothes too. Do you keep them here?"

"Yes dear," Madam Malkin said, "I apologize if this isn't up to your expectations. Sometimes we get faulty material in here. It's out of our hands really."

Harry stopped himself from snickering. "Too bad. I hope this kind of thing doesn't happen very frequently."

"You better watch your back nut-brain – Hogwarts is a big place; the professors wouldn't always watch over you." _Dammit,_ Harry thought… calmly. It looked like the boy's brain hadn't completely deserted him.

 _Well, this was just great._ Not even 10 minutes alone in the wizarding world! Maybe he will step back once he learns his true identity. Anyway, goading him further would only land him in more trouble.

"I hope you are not picking on firsties now, Flint!" A voice interrupted. Harry turned. A dark-haired girl had just entered the shop. She stumbled, and barely stopped herself from falling. "Oops! Damn stool."

The boy's, Flint's, eyes widened at seeing her and he stood a little straight.

"Not at all, Page. I was just answering his questions. He seemed a little anxious about attending Hogwarts."

"Is that right? You answering questions. I am surprised," she laughed as she twirled her hair with her fingers. Turned to him she said. "Say kid – Bull over here doesn't think with his brain most of the time. I am a prefect and I think I can answer your questions better."

Harry nodded but kept his mouth shut. He was thinking that it would be better to learn more about the magical world before opening his mouth.

"If you have any questions on Quidditch though, Marcus would be your best bet. He is the best chaser in slytherin. I wish we were on the same team. You could have taught me those moves," she said dreamily. "Don't you think so too, Marcus?" she said glancing at the boy through her lashes.

 _He is in slytherin! Where's the intelligence, pragmatism, and cleverness?_

"Yes, absolutely. I was just about done here though… Hey Page, I really liked how you played last year. Hard luck on losing that game to Hufflepuff."

 _Ok. They play a game at Hogwarts. Quidditch?_

"Oh, nobody could have beaten Hufflepuff. They have the best team." the girl was looking at the floor now, struggling not to smile.

 _Hufflepuff has the best team._

"What?" Flint then coughed. "Yeah, they have a good team."

 _He doesn't think they do._

"Say, what do you say we practice some over weekends at Hogwarts?" He said trying to sound offhanded.

 _Don't they have a toothbrush in the wizarding world? Or a spell to clean teeth?_

"Won't that be weird! A slytherin and a ravenclaw practicing together? I mean I sure want to. Who wouldn't want to practice with you, but my team would think that you intend to spy on us through me."

 _This boy has to be a damn good chaser. Why can't this girl stand still?_

"I'd never do that!"

 _You would if you were intelligent, pragmatic and clever._

"I know that, but the rest of my house doesn't. What about… yes, that would work. What about you ask me during the opening feast in front of all my house. That way they can see that you are sincere, and don't just want to scout our team. Can you do that for me?" she asked looking into his eyes.

 _Maybe, you want to spy on them. That would be intelligent, pragmatic and clever._

"In front of everyone! I can't do that."

 _Ugh, don't look at his teeth._

"Oh, but you can Marcus. Wood did last year, but I rejected him. If those foolish gryffindors can, you can too. Can't you?" she asked holding his hand.

 _Hmm, if a fool does something that you don't think you should do, can't you too? How does that work?_

"… yes, of course. I think I can, Page. But do I have to do that in front of everyone?"

 _Flint? Wood? Page? What's with these names?_

"Think about it. _I,_ " she said leaning close to him, "would be saying _yes_ to the best chaser at Hogwarts in front of Wood and the rest of the gryffindors."

The witch helping Flint with his robes interjected, "Looks like you are done, sir. That would be 11 Galleons and 45 Knuts."

Flint looked at Page's chiseled face and brown eyes. "I will do it, Anna. I give you my word."

Head held high, he took the money out of his pouch and gave to the witch. "I will see you at Hogwarts Anna." Turning to him he said, "And don't forget that the professors won't always be there, but I will be."

 _I will just have to be intelligent, pragmatic and clever._

Anna nodded vigorously, then wiped her hands on her robes as he left the shop.

"Wotcher kid! Hope to see you in Hufflepuff," she said, winking at him. And she too left the shop leaving a bewildered Harry. _Wasn't she in Ravenclaw? The wizarding world is weird._

* * *

A/N: This chapter was full of dialogues. Hope it wasn't boring :). Guys, the text box below is very useful. If you like something, you can get your voice heard. If you didn't like something, ditto. If you want something, you have to say so first. I feel that you guys are liking my story, but the text box below can validate it. Make some noise, guys!


	5. Magic With Cats

Chapter 5 - Magic With Cats

* * *

 _We should not just assume that people's minds work on the same principles as ours does. Many times, the people we encounter do not reason as we do, do not think as we do, do not value the same things as we do. You should try to see the world through their eyes to understand why they do the things they do, what principles they follow, what values they cherish. But remember the one thing that ties us. We all think we are right, even people who are thought of to be the bad guys, who are bad guys, in some objective sense, don't think of themselves as the bad guys._

 _Not many people think like this. Not many people would value thinking like this. It is a very Hufflepuff thing to do. And a very difficult thing to do. The lens through which they see the world is not theirs._

* * *

Madam Malkin's shop turned out to be a warehouse of all kinds of muggle clothes for every fashion, some even going back to the 19th century. Apparently, there was a group of wizards called FART (Fresh Air Refreshes Totally) who believed that the current muggle fashion stemmed the flow of magic by blocking air to reach their private parts. Harry seriously hoped that wasn't really the case, but what did he know about magic. If it turned out to be true, Harry thought there was a possibility of it catching up once he started the trend.

Madam Malkin had hired a muggleborn assistant who was in charge of handling the muggle cloth sales. She had looked at him in sympathy at his magically enhanced clothes when he informed her that he didn't own anything better than what he had on, and promptly rushed him into the clothing section. She had asked him why he didn't just buy from muggle stores where they would be cheaper. Harry didn't have any muggle money with him and agreed with the professor that with the extra charge to convert galleons, he might as well have bought them here. Besides, he thought, Professor McGonagall shouldn't be seen anywhere near the muggle shops in her attire.

Professor McGonagall was talking with Madam Malkin when Harry emerged out of the back wearing a black robe carrying three bags full of clothes. He had been an hour in there, and he was starting to become weary after having to wear these clothes over and over. He really wanted to see more of the magical world, and buying clothes was so not what he wanted.

After paying for the clothes, they were again walking in the magical Diagon Alley. Just the whiff of the air here and the slightest glimpse of something extraordinary happening seemed to fill Harry with energy.

"You must be feeling hungry by now. First, we should buy you a trunk to store all those clothes and the rest of your supplies that we will purchase after lunch."

Harry wasn't feeling very hungry, but agreed with her, excited to see the kinds of food available here. After heading to a normal looking leather shop, and buying a not so normal trunk, Harry walked empty handed with Professor McGonagall to a fancy restaurant called Agnes's Taste.

The inside was circular in shape. Private cubicles extended further down the hallway through doorways. The ceiling was high and conical in shape that had dark red lanterns hanging across it creating a rich ambiance with a hazy red glow.

Harry's attention was drawn to three boys making a lot of noise sitting a few tables away from them. Two were red-haired twins, and the other one had cool black dreadlocks. One of the twins was recounting a story while throwing gestures which suggested the ordeal that he went through. However, the other two were having trouble staying still in their seats and were laughing. Their voice carried across the doorway.

" _First, she screamed, 'George! What are you doing?! Oh, Merlin!' When it looked like she was going to faint I said, 'Mom! I am Fred!_ '"

" _You said what?!_ " his twin shouted, glaring at him.

" _I said, 'Mom, I'm Fred. George is in the shower.' She then started clutching the wall trying to hang onto it. I didn't know whether to catch her or to zip up."_

" _What did you do?_ " asked the dark-skinned boy with black dreadlocks, who was clutching the back of his seat trying not to fall, while the other twin was now glaring at both.

" _I zipped up!_ "

The professor made a noise resembling a hiss. "Mr. Potter, we should look for another restaurant. I am feeling a little queasy here," she said a little forcefully.

"I like this restaurant! Look – the knives and forks are moving on their own – and look, that dish is flying through the air!" Harry exclaimed looking at everything in wonder.

" _I couldn't exactly help her with it hanging in –_ "

"Come on! We haven't got the whole day!" the professor hissed at him over the boys' voices, nudging him hard on the shoulders.

A few minutes later they were sitting in The Royal Swan, a homey-looking restaurant on one of the tables in the center. Spheres illuminating the hall in purple light floated about in the air. As soon as they sat, two menus, two glasses of water appeared on the table in front of them.

"I apologize for that, Mr. Potter. The air in there didn't agree with me."

"It's alright, Professor. This place is great too," Harry said looking at the menu with curiosity. Harry had never heard of some of the dishes mentioned in it – Pork Vol-au-vent, Chocolate Vol-au-vent, Chicken Vol-au-vent, Hogsmeade Platter, Merlin's Cheezy Roast. Almost all of the drinks mentioned were new to him. After questioning Professor McGonagall, he decided to go for Chicken Vol-au-vent, Merlin's Cheezy Roast and Gillywater.

"So, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said after they had ordered their food to a rugged brown-haired boy a few years older than Harry, who he believed was also attending Hogwarts as he was quick to greet Professor McGonagall. "How has been your first experience with the wizarding world?"

"It has been… just brilliant! I would never have imagined that all these things _existed_ – Goblins, teleporting buses, shrinking weightless trunks, dragons! It all seems like a dream…" Harry had an awed look on his face recalling the events of the day. His attention was drawn to his glass of water which seemed to be refilling itself. _Woah!_ _That is handy._

"That's good to hear, Mr. Potter. I can guarantee you that this isn't a dream," the professor paused. "Actually, I cannot guarantee you since any of your dream characters will say the same. I can spray some water on your face using my wand if you want."

"A part of me does want you to do that. Just to see some more magic. This all seems so unbelievable."

"Believe me, you will. Hogwarts is a school where students study magic, and apart from the classes of a couple of inane subjects, you will see magic and do magic in all of your classes. You will live with our kind for the next seven years at Hogwarts, you will eat with them, share a dorm with them, play and learn with them. I assure you, after a while, it will be the muggle world which would seem odd to you."

"Really! I can't wait to get there!"

Harry was about to burst in happiness at just imagining how it would be like. Somehow seeing all this magic, being in the magical world made him feel like he belonged here. Probably because it was infinitely better than the muggle world was for him.

"That's good to hear. While we are waiting for the waiter, I would be happy to answer any questions you have about our world or Hogwarts."

"Umm, aren't we the waiter now?" Harry questioned.

She raised her eyebrows. "That isn't a question about the wizarding world. But, yes, I do believe we are."

Harry laughed. He was reminded by one of his muggle school teacher. She wasn't his favorite teacher, though. "How much time does it usually take to make food with magic?"

"Less than the muggles take, but not by much, I am sure. The most fundamental law of magic is that interfering with life forces always has grave consequences. And all food is derived from life. You can use magic to cook food for you, but you cannot create food. It is also one of the rules of Gamp's laws of elemental transfiguration – You can never permanently transfigure anything into food. You will learn about that in Transfiguration, the class which I happen to teach."

"But you can create water? That's weird."

"I understand why you might think so. But there's a key difference between water and food. Food comes from life, and water supports life. Same is with anything else your body might need. Anything that requires any life force to exist, for example – bones, milk, alcohol, cannot be created or transfigured from magic. Does that make sense, Mr. Potter?"

That made sense to Harry. If they could create life or alter life, then there would be no difference between God and wizards… apart from power, he supposed.

"Um, yeah."

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "No, Mr. Potter. Many magical theorists, researchers, and alchemists have been trying to make sense of it for centuries. We do not know the precise reason for the existence of these laws. Magic seems to be governed by some arbitrary laws for no apparent reason. It can create salt but not sugar. It can create iron, but not gold, silver or copper. You can use it to make other things or even people fly in the air, but not yourself. You will learn it fairly early in your studies that magic is not a simple phenomenon."

Harry was feeling like he was sitting in a class. "So, you are saying that magic doesn't make sense?"

"I am saying that we have not been able to make sense of the _laws_ that govern magic."

After staring at her for a few seconds, Harry did what he used to do in those classes. He nodded while making eye contact.

When a few more moments had passed with Professor McGonagall peering at him over her glasses, he felt the need to ask something else.

"Um, Professor, I was thinking… is there a limit on doing magic? I mean… You-Know-Who is said to be the most powerful dark lord, um, in a very long time. What makes one more powerful than the other? Is it just the… um, spells that they know?"

There was a slight flash of her eyebrows. "The answer to that is not so simple, Mr. Potter. No-one has ever reached such a limit. But does this limit exists? I would say so. I do not believe anyone would ever be able to just throw spell after spell, or increase the power of the spell at will without feeling any strain or exhausting themselves. You can compare it to your physical abilities. You will always be able to run faster if you put more effort into it and practice more, but will you ever be able to run faster than say, a cheetah? No. There is a limit on how fast you can run that is imposed by your body which will probably always stay out of your reach. You are probably more interested in knowing how you can become good at it?"

She continued when Harry nodded, "It is widely accepted that casting spell successfully depends broadly on two concepts – your understanding of the spell, which includes your knowledge of it, your familiarity with it, and your overall understanding of magic, and the second is your inner strength, which includes how strong you are emotionally, and how confident you are in your ability to perform the spell. Both of these concepts are codependent. You need to meet the criteria for both in order to perform the spell successfully. Some other conditions might also affect your casting of the spell such as the state of mind you are in or the type of your wand, which might have a predilection towards a particular type of magic or which limits the amount of power it can channel for you."

 _Wow, the most obvious news flash – this won't be a piece of cake._ At least this sounded familiar to Harry. He can safely rule out that information provided by Gilderoy Lockhart was wrong. He just wished he could take notes here.

Seeing the look on Harry's face, she added, "You don't have to always keep that in mind while casting a spell. It will start to become instinctual as you become proficient at casting magic. All you need to do is to truly want to learn magic and make an effort towards it… I have to admit, Mr. Potter, your questions have surprised me. They are very Ravenclaw in nature."

"A girl was talking in the robe shop about Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw! What exactly are they?"

"They are two of the four houses at Hogwarts."

She took out her wand and flicked it in the air. Four crests appeared in the air making a rhombus. Nobody sitting near them was surprised at their sudden appearance.

"Each student is sorted into one of our four houses according to the qualities they demonstrate. Hufflepuff," she pointed to a badger looking to its right amidst a yellow background, "is the house that respects loyalty and friendship. They are also very hard-working people who would give their all if they put their minds to anything."

"Ravenclaw," pointing to an eagle spanning its wings in a blue background, "is the house of smarts and logical thinking. They want knowledge. Most scholars and magic researchers go there."

"Gryffindor," pointing to a roaring lion raising one of its claws, "is a house that admires bravery and courage. They are people of action. They are instinctual and are prone to act first and think later about the thing that they decide to do."

"Slytherin," a curled snake forking its tongue and looking to its left, the only one among the four to do so, "is our last house, one which esteems cunning and ambition. They are often selected as high ministry office heads for their single-mindedness and ruthlessness in achieving their goals."

"Each house has a long history of powerful witches and wizards who have shaped our world. Your house will exemplify the traits that will carry you forward in your life. Your house will be your family for the remainder of your Hogwarts stay and even after that. You will live in your house's dorm rooms, attend classes and study with them, and eat your food with them."

Harry was fascinated. Magic was so awesome, and these qualities were not at all exclusive. Where would he fit, he wondered. Hufflepuff sounded very nice – he loved the thought of such a group. Gryffindor would be great too – an occasional daring wasn't amiss for him, though he was hardly the person to jump into action without thinking. He was in the end all about patience and logical thinking. He had to be in order to survive with the Dursleys, who, now that he thought about it, wouldn't quite fit in any house. He liked to think of himself as cunning and ambitious too. Harry had never thought about his qualities. _Huh. I didn't realize I thought of myself so highly._ Another thought entered his mind. _Is this arrogance?_

"How exactly do we demonstrate these qualities?" Harry asked, testing out the new word.

"That… is a secret. Not even the students living in the wizarding world are supposed to know. You will be sorted first thing when you reach Hogwarts."

Harry wondered what it could be. Probably some sort of test. He'd have to prepare for it if that was the case. There was so much that he needed to know.

Soon after that, they were no longer the waiters. Merlin's Cheezy Roast turned out to be a normal meal with roasted meat and potato, albeit with the extra cheese, and Vol-au-vent was a pastry filled with chicken in it. Professor McGonagall also informed him that Vol-au-vents weren't exclusive to the wizarding world. It was all delicious though. Few young boys and girls had approached them to say hello to Professor McGonagall. Harry wasn't surprised to see that she was well liked there. However, he could see an occasional person shifting their eyes on seeing them.

Harry was imagining his stay at Hogwarts. It was going to be amazing. Learning magic, doing magic, making friends, and having fun. No longer would there be any Dursleys to hold him back. The memory of his conversation with the bully in the robe shop flashed to his mind. _It wouldn't be all sunshine and roses though_. He told Professor McGonagall about his meeting with that boy.

Professor McGonagall was giving him a severe look as they finished their lunch. "I have always felt aggrieved that some witches and wizards look down upon muggleborns. Can you guess the reason why that is so?"

Harry, who had always been looked down upon because he was different, felt that he understood it better than the professor thought he should. "Because you are a nice person."

Professor McGonagall blinked. "I… thank you Mr. Potter, but you know I wasn't asking that."

Harry smiled. "Because they are bad people. They think that because they have lived in the magical world, they are somehow better, or muggleborns are somehow worse than them." It was the opposite of how the Dursleys felt, yet it was the same thinking.

The professor nodded staring at him through her glasses. "Yes, that is one of the reasons. It is a natural instinct for people to think that they are better than the other. And they instinctively oppose something which they do not understand or which is unlike them. Another reason for this prejudice is fear. They fear the change that muggleborns bring with them. They fear the opposition that they bring against their practices, their beliefs, and their culture."

 _Fear._ He realized then that his aunt and uncle had feared him too all this time. The professor looked at him before speaking again. Something in her voice compelled him to pay attention.

"It goes both ways, Mr. Potter. It has been my experience that most muggleborns at some point of time start feeling out of place in the magical world, either in discomfort as they lose their sense of belonging when they fail to understand our customs and practices, or when they can't deal with the same prejudices that some people have against them. Whenever you can't understand something or think of something to be wrong, know that that practice and behavior has been established over many centuries. Disapproval of it shouldn't be stated lightly, even if you believe you are right. Do you understand, Mr. Potter?"

Harry thought about it. It all made sense to him. The Dursleys had always attacked him without ever trying to understand. "Yes Professor. It makes sense."

"Good. Now let us go get the rest of your things."

* * *

Flourish and Blotts was the bookshop where he was supposed to buy his books. There were columns of shelves stacked to the ceiling with books of all sizes, from a postage stamp to the size of a car. Harry had stood five minutes staring at the huge book trying to comprehend its existence. He decided to ask a bushy haired girl who was sitting on a stool near it reading a book.

"Um, excuse me."

The girl who seemed to be his age looked up with a flash of annoyance.

"I am sorry, were you trying to read?"

The girl looked affronted. "You are the one who looks like someone who _tries_ to read!"

"I am sorry?"

"You should be!" she went back to her book looking like she couldn't believe that someone would interfere with her reading.

Harry decided to forget that this happened. He looked around the shop looking for his textbooks. There were books of all kinds, some moving on their own, some with claws, some changing their content based on who was reading, some with moving pictures, and some were completely blank. Apart from his course list, he picked up any book that was based on anything that he read in the Gilderoy Lockhart book at his home. Some books were even written by him, easily recognizable by his flashing smile and shining robes on the covers. He also picked up a book on wizarding culture, two on wizarding history, few on magical tales and myths, and one about famous wizards and witches.

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows at the number of books he had brought back to the counter. "The Hogwarts library is quite extensive. I am sure you can find most of these books there." On seeing his dejected expression, she continued with a smile, "but I am sure they will come in handy when you are not at Hogwarts."

When they exited Flourish and Blotts, he saw a group of children gathering in front of the next shop. Were they gawking at a… broom? A highly decorated, cool looking one though. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever -" _Was it very fast at cleaning things? Why would they stare at a broom?_

"Um, Professor. Why are those boys ogling a broom?"

She turned to look at where he was pointing. "A Nimbus Two Thousand!... Oh, I apologize, Mr. Potter, we use brooms for flying instead of cleaning things. This particular broom is used to fly in one of our sports, Quidditch. It is believed to be the fastest broom ever created."

Harry's eyes widened. "That doesn't sound very safe. How do we fly on them?"

Her lips twitched. "Magic. There are enchantments to make them comfortable, as well as to make it hard to fall off of them. Even if we fall, it is rare for a wizard to be killed by the fall. One of the differences between a muggle and us is physical endurance. It is very hard to injure us."

 _Wow,_ Harry thought for the umptieth time.

They bought a cauldron and a set of scales at the cauldron shop, a telescope at the Astronomical Desires, and some potion ingredients at the apothecary – the most disgusting shop he had ever been to. He was so going to have nightmares about the dead dung beetles crawling on his eyeballs which would be detached and preserved in a jar near his body.

Now all that was left was a wand, a magic wand, the thing he was most looking forward to.

That turned out to be another super weird experience. His skin first prickled as he entered the dusty shop. It seemed like he was being measured down by some strange power. And then, an old man emerged from thin air, scaring the lights out of him. He could look past Professor McGonagall's glamour charm. He proceeded to describe the wands of his parents and their killer to him in detail without blinking an eye. And then, after an hour, when Harry started to feel like no wand wanted to choose him, one wand did, filling him with warmth and letting out a stream of red and gold sparks, along with a glowing baby shaped figure that winked at him. A shape that he recognized.

 _A very powerful wand_ , Ollivander told, _just like it's brother_. It seems wands have brothers too, and his wand's brother was used by You-Know-Who. Talk about coincidence. Or fate. Even Professor McGonagall was astonished.

Harry walked out of the wand shop with a dizzy look on his face, looking at his wand in wonder.

"Now, Mr. Potter, remember, you are not supposed to use your wand outside of Hogwarts. The Ministry of Magic can detect its use, and can land you in trouble, or even expelling you from Hogwarts."

Harry nodded distractedly. His mind still on his meeting with Ollivander. He mentioned that he had his mother's eyes. That was the first time anyone had ever said so.

"Did you teach my parents? Do I really have my mother's eyes?" he asked in an uneven voice.

"…Yes, I did. You really are their child. Your mother's eyes, and your father's look." She was looking at him like Aunt Petunia looked at Dudley. "They were my dear friends and students. Your mother was one of the brightest students that Hogwarts has ever produced. She was a very sweet and caring girl, and was among the few to become a charm's master at her age. Your father on the other hand… was very mischievous. He was very talented in Transfiguration, and that is a very high praise coming from the transfiguration mistress at Hogwarts."

She touched his cheek, "You can approach me anytime you want to hear about your parents at Hogwarts."

Harry was listening to her intently, "Thank you, Professor. All I had ever heard of them was that they were a no-good drunk, unemployed couple who died in a car crash."

He cursed the Dursleys again. They always said that he would turn out to be a no-good waste of space like his parents. _Well, guess what, Pillocks, you were right for once - I would become just like my parents!_

"What happened to the letter you sent to that Dumbledore? Would I have to go back to them?"

Professor McGonagall looked at him sadly. "I received a reply when you were buying your clothes. I am sorry, Harry, but the place has many protective charms for your protection."

 _Protection?_ Harry sighed. Lyanna's letter too had hinted that some people opposed and hated him. "It's ok. I can handle them for a few more weeks. But what is it that I have to be safe from?"

She hesitated before answering him, "Not all of You-Know-Who's followers were captured. A few escaped detections, and some escaped punishment. Not everyone believes that their master is completely dead. Even Professor Dumbledore has his suspicions. Harry, to them, You-Know-Who is alive. The remaining Death Eaters, those who were his followers, are alive. They can harm you in any way that they can imagine, including muggle ways. Your house is guarded by wards which protect you from anyone wishing you harm."

Harry blinked. "He is _alive?!_ " he exclaimed. "I was told that they found his burnt body after he killed me. What do you mean he can be alive?"

"You-Know-Who is one of the darkest wizards to ever set his foot in this world. He had done such despicable deeds, inhumane rituals that even the worst Death Eater would cringe on hearing about them. I don't know whether he is alive or not. Logic says yes, but logic also says that one shouldn't be able to perform the deeds that he did. It was rumored that he had taken steps to ensure that he cannot be killed."

Professor McGonagall clasped his hands and dropped down to his level. "I want you to know Harry, that you don't have to worry. Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the world. If he is indeed alive, then he is in a very weak state as evidenced by the 10 years of peace we have had since that day."

Harry nodded. Bombshell after bombshell had hit him in the past few hours. He was surprised that he was taking it all this well. The thought of his safety hadn't even entered his mind. _Probably due to that potion that Professor McGonagall gave me earlier._ Now that he thought about it, if You-Know-Who indeed came back to life, then he would be on the top of his most wanted list. It came to him that he was worried that a man whose body was completely burned could come back to life, and would attempt to kill him. What else was there he needed to be concerned about? Now that he thought about it…

"Has anyone ever come back to life before?" _And didn't she say that it is one of magic's rule that mucking about with life forces had grave consequences?_

Professor McGonagall stared at him as if this was the first time she had heard this question and then shook her head. "Never. No-one in the past thousand years at least. Just like no one had ever survived the killing curse."

Harry had a bad feeling when he heard that. The same feeling he got when he learned that he was chosen by the brother wand of You-Know-Who's.

Professor McGonagall stood up and checked their surroundings. Indeed, few people were staring at them. "Like I said, you do not need to worry about this. Now that you have bought everything you need to attend Hogwarts, we just need one thing that I need to buy for you. Think of it as an early birthday present."

"You don't have to, Professor! You have done enough for me today."

"Enough for a professor at Hogwarts perhaps, not enough for your parent's friend. Think of it as something I am gifting to your parents. Come on, Mr. Potter, we are gathering a crowd."

Harry was still embarrassed but gave her a nod. No one had ever taken him to buy a birthday present. There were so many things happening today that had never happened ever.

"How about a cat? Some students bring a pet with them at Hogwarts."

"Cat! No, I hate cats. Anyway, I already have an owl. Can one bring two pets?" Harry questioned, not noticing her narrowed eyes.

"Why do you _hate_ cats, Mr. Potter?" Professor asked in a tone that caused him to look at her.

Harry backtracked. "It's not that I hate cats… It's just that cats seem like they hate everyone. And they are creepy. Do you know how a cat expresses its love? By staring at you blankly. I was totally creeped out by one such cat. One time after that, another cat was staring at me. I thought that it liked me, so I went to pet her. She attacked me! Apparently, if they stare at you, it likes you, but if it does it for too long, then it is planning to attack you."

The professor was staring at him unblinkingly throughout. " _Oh_ , and what do you _like? A Dog_?"

"Why, yes. I love dogs! They are fun. But I don't think a dog was mentioned in the list of pets for Hogwarts."

Harry recognized now that Professor McGonagall was glaring at him, and he wasn't sure why. "You don't have to buy me a dog. It's your present. I will nevertheless love my cat forever, even though I would never be able to tell if it loves me."

Professor McGonagall was still glaring at him, and was about to reply when two red-haired boys… twins approached them.

One exclaimed, "Hey Professor! What has this poor kid done…"

"done to get you…" the other continued

"so out of shape? It's just like that time…" the first picked up.

"when you punished us…"

"for someone stealing all the clothes…"

"of a first-year brat, and apparently…"

"also managing to vanish the kid's robes…"

"in Snape's class no less, leaving the kid…"

"in his underwear!" one exclaimed, looking at the other in confusion.

"and the poor kid didn't even have a twin to take the heat." The other said.

Harry shuttled between them as they alternated. _What was that?_ Harry unconsciously checked his miniature trunk in this pocket.

"You are advised to keep your distance here, _Weasleys_. The term might not have started, but don't think that I can't punish you," the professor said angrily.

"She is not mad at me!" Harry interjected defensively before they could reply. Harry was quite sure she liked him. "We were going to buy a pet for me, and she was just asking why I hate… I mean, don't like cats over dogs."

The professor turned sharply towards him as Uncle Vernon would if he had said the M-word.

"Isn't that…" one of them began.

"quite interesting…"

"and hilarious. Why ever so…"

"would Professor be mad at him…"

"for wanting to buy a dog. We must have…"

"misunderstood. We will see you…" both turned to him.

"and your dog…"

"at Hogwarts!"

They were gone before he could blink. He thought he was missing many things to make sense of what just happened. Is it just that Professor McGonagall likes cats? That would be a very silly reason.

He turned towards the professor. "As I said before, I would be h-happy to buy a cat."

"That's enough, Mr. Potter. No power in the world is going to stop me now from getting you one of those mongrels," she said, from what he could perceive, quite furiously.

"You don't have to! In fact, I didn't think you'd be cross just over me liking a dog. We could get something else. A present should be something that should be given lovingly. I'd prefer a cat to a dog now."

The professor sighed. "I am not crossed with you, Mr. Potter. My dislike for dogs… is irrational, I suppose. I am sure you'd know the reason soon enough. A present should also be one that one thinks would be truly appreciated by the receiver. I do not want to gift you a cat now – that's enough now," she said when Harry was about to reply, "I don't want to listen to another word now."

With that, an excited and mesmerized boy, and a resigned and irate lady left to buy a dog.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was a real challenge to write. Not only did I have to give Harry all this information and include all these dialogues, I also had to make it interesting. I loved writing this chapter. Hope you guys liked it! Next chapter - soon!


	6. Tail of a Dog

Chapter 6 - Tail of a Dog

* * *

 _You will meet many different people in your life. Each person you meet will change your life in one way or the other. You will recognize some of the people at once without knowing much about them, finding a natural affinity and connection with them. Yet, you are in some way repelled by the others. Why is that? It is important to understand what is happening there. You will also have to leave many people in your life for one reason or the other. These happenstances are not at random. They occur for a reason._

 _The actions performed out of free will by everyone in their stories join together to form a single connected story. It's up to you to learn from it and lead yourself onwards. The more you learn the further you go along in realizing that the individual stories are worthless, and you will move onto recognizing your part in the story that we are telling together._

* * *

Magical Menagerie was loud.

There were squeals.

" _Hey! Look at it! It's so cute!" – "Aweeee!"_

Hi-fives.

" _Reckon you can sneak it in?" – "Yeah. I just hope my parents don't find it. I think I will hide it under my bed."_

Amazement.

" _Woah! Look, it got bigger!" – "How big can it get? It wouldn't fit!"_

Weirdness.

" _Sssilly. I like my ratsss fat and alive." – "It isss obviousss. They should know that you like to rattle them... Hey, hisss. That isss hisssterical."_

Complaints.

" _Those nasty snakes. Why keep them here? You know who likes them?" – "Maybe it's a trap to catch those snakes!"_

It was as magical as Harry expected it to be.

Enormous rabbits turning into hats. Check. Cats becoming invisible. Check and no-thanks. Snakes changing their sizes to fit available space. Check. Poisonous rats, ugly toads, beautiful owls, flashy cats, singing birds, shape-changing worms, oozing snails, floating badgers – all kinds of animals met his eyes. He was disappointed by the lack of magical dogs, though. All dogs here looked very normal. When he asked this to Professor McGonagall, he was stiffly answered that all that the dogs would want with magic was to be able to catch their tails.

The caretaker at the store, however, was more helpful. "Yes, it is true that there are not as many magical varieties of dogs as there are of other animals. However, the animals we have, all are, in one way or another, magical. The store _is_ called Magical Menagerie."

"As for magical dogs, we have Adleurre Dachshunds – prolific trackers, they are; Crups – easy to train, very loyal; you'd have to get a license to buy them though; a native Victoria Bulldog – very protective; a Basset Hound puppy – can sense danger to their owners; and finally, this little Dalmatian pup – all the way from Uagadou's charmed gardens – they are known to be able to easily control other farm animals."

Harry looked at them enchantedly in contrast to the weary way professor was looking at them. He wanted to buy each of them, apart from the Bulldog, which looked like it could rip his hands. He had enough bad experiences with Aunt Marge's Bulldogs. The Crups looked like a terrier with a forked tail; one was wagging its tail wildly and barking at him. The Dachshund was lying down and sticking out its tongue. The Basset Hound was growling at Professor McGonagall, who in return was glaring at it. And the Dalmatian was a puppy jumping and turning excitedly on seeing them. This was going to be a very difficult choice.

His brain was starting to press the breaks though. Captivated and excited by the fantastical images being displayed by his mind, he had ignored some vital details until now of what owning a dog entailed.

"Professor, how would I take care of them at Hogwarts? They'd need to be cleaned and I would have to clean my room daily of..." he shuddered, "and where would I take them for a walk? How would I feed them?" he asked in a shaky voice, his lips curling down with each question.

Professor McGonagall answered him still carrying a resigned look, "It won't be a problem. You would find that magic is very convenient. There are other pets at Hogwarts and their owners manage it easily enough… though I am uncertain, there aren't many pets at Hogwarts causing _chaos_ while running up and down, wagging their tails _stupidly_. We already have enough of that stupidity in students."

The caretaker, who evidently knew Professor McGonagall, laughed. "Oh no, Professor. They don't cause as much trouble as you'd imagine. I am sure that this kid will manage it just fine. I remember my Hogwart's dorm – you don't need pets to cause havoc there. Don't worry kid. Believe me when I say it – you will never regret buying a pet, whichever you'd choose. You can take it to a walk on Hogwarts grounds or around the Great Lake every morning or afternoon. Sooner than you can imagine, you'd become used to it and would be thinking how you ever lived without it."

Harry was satisfied he had done his due. If there is any problem now, then he won't be completely responsible. He turned to assess each of his options.

"Why do I need to get a license to get a Crup? It looks safe enough to me," Harry asked, looking at the Crup extending its paw to him.

"Oh – they are! To wizards. But they turn feral when they come in contact with muggles. You need to show that you are able to handle them in front of muggles. You can do that either by showing your bond with the dog or by showing enough power to keep it in check."

Harry so wanted to get it. It would show the Dursleys what it felt like when they chucked Ripper at him. But, he probably couldn't. And how would he show his bond with the crup without buying him and spending some time to develop a bond with it? _More weirdness._

He imagined himself in the future. Which dog would he like to be with then… Basset Hound would be very useful. The ability to be aware of danger would be very helpful, especially in his case.

"How old is this Basset Hound?" he asked. He had heard from Aunt Marge that the younger they are the better it is to train them. Harry figured that it would make them easier to bond with them too.

"He is 4 months old. He was left by his previous owner, a curse breaker. Poor fellow, couldn't handle all the times the dog alerted him of danger."

The dog was still growling and started barking when they went near him.

"Hmm, strange. He isn't so aggressive usually… You might as well choose another. Besides the pups, all the rest are already trained enough."

The Dalmatian started whimpering when he turned to inspect other dogs. Harry's heart went out to it.

"I will take the Dalmatian. How much is it?"

"Good choice, if I might say. He was left just yesterday with us. Two months old, he is. He will cost you 13 Galleons. Might I suggest you also buy dog treats, a self-replenishing dogfood supply, and an auto Poop-Snatcher, got to have that – will make your life much easier. I will give you a discount if you buy all."

Harry also ended up buying a book, "Training your dog – As simple as casting a Lumos" by Mopart Henderson, his harness, and a cage for him for travel purposes for a total of 30 Galleons. Professor McGonagall told him that it was impossible to conjure food so he wondered how the food supply worked. It turned out that you cannot conjure food, but you can summon it if you know where it was. He would have to recharge the dog-food supply every year.

Once they had paid the money and bought everything, the owner chose to deliver some forewarnings.

"At first you might find him very hard to handle. Dalmatians are some of the most active canines. Particularly this pooch. He would need lots of exercise while in his adolescent phase. But once you establish a routine, you'd be glad for it. You'd be one of the few kids at Hogwarts not feeling sleepy in your morning classes."

Harry wasn't deterred though. _I would never let some extra effort discourage me from keeping the best gift that anyone can ever get_.

Harry looked at the little dog as they left the shop. The Dalmatian had little black spots marking him all around, noticeable on his face around his eyes, nose, and ears, making him look very adorable. Harry already loved him.

The dog was wagging his tail frantically as he picked up the cage, and when he opened it, the dog started crawling up on his arms trying to reach his face. In the end, he ended up licking all over Harry's face as if marking his territory while letting out ecstatic noises throughout.

Professor McGonagall watched the show with raised eyebrows, and with a smirk commented, "I don't understand what people see in dogs. They don't care about how filthy they get or make their owners. Cats are sophisticated animals with a high regard for cleanliness."

Harry was laughing with a huge smile on his face. "Yeah, you are right. Every time you touch a cat, it will try to lick itself clean wherever you touched it."

Professor McGonagall stared at him and then blinked. "You have a sharp mind, Mr. Potter… I didn't think this would be the case, but you'd do well in Ravenclaw, and perhaps even in Slytherin."

"That means I am smart. Why didn't you think I would be smart?" Harry asked holding the puppy closely in his arms. His glasses were hanging down from one eye.

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "Oh no, Mr. Potter. Perhaps I should have phrased it differently… Both of your parents, along with most of the Potters, were in Gryffindors, and these things usually run in families. You don't act like a Gryffindor – they are usually brash and quick to act. That's why I was surprised. Smartness has nothing to do with it."

Harry nodded, getting her point, and fixed his glasses leaving his hair as it is, knowing them to be a lost cause. "Would my parents have minded if I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor? Is it the best house?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't believe your parents would have minded. Perhaps, your father would have thrown a ruckus first, but he still would have been proud of you. And no house is better or worse than the other. They just represent the dominant quality that people in it cherish. Would being very loyal or very courageous be somehow better than being very cunning and just being moderately courageous or loyal? Even a Ravenclaw can be more courageous than a Gryffindor. The fact that they are in Ravenclaw just suggests that they value knowledge and critical thinking more."

"Wow – you must be a great teacher! Is every teacher at Hogwarts like you?"

The professor leaned forward and smiled at him. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. I wouldn't be here introducing the magical world to muggleborn students if I couldn't even explain Hogwart's houses properly. You will also find that all the teachers at Hogwarts are experts in their respective fields. There is no better way to learn about those subjects."

She looked at the setting sun and looked at her watch. "It's getting late. Come on, we should go now. We don't have to take the Knight Bus this time around. We are going to apparate," she said answering Harry's unasked question.

Harry moved along the still crowded street to the apparition point. Happiness enveloped him at the sight of the joyful pup in his hands. The setting sun had cast a reddish glow over everything turning his white fur rosy colored. Professor McGonagall was also smiling at the sight.

"Mr. Potter, you'd have to place your dog in the trunk. He can't handle the strain from apparition without feeling sick yet," Professor McGonagall informed him as they reached the point.

Harry took the small slab from his pocket and tapped it the way he was shown. It jumped from his hand and enlarged in front of him. He opened the second compartment, which was also a takeaway camp of sorts with 2 rooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom. He dropped down into the trunk through the stairs still feeling weird at the sensation of moving into the enlarged hall everything about which alarmed his senses. The pup made a protest at seeing what he was doing, but couldn't do anything as he took in the new atmosphere. He jumped from his hands and started looking around curiously. He kept on running around to anything that caught his interest in the paradoxical space, which was everything. Wagging his tail, he kept running in circles, sometimes darting back immediately from where he began. Harry found it hilarious and had a huge smile on his face. Harry gave him few treats, which were attacked with gusto, and placed some in the hall. He moved the cushions from the sofa to the floor to make a makeshift bed for him which too was soon attacked by the pup – he would have to name him soon. He slowly moved away to ascend the stairs feeling sad at his first brief parting from his new companion.

"Hold tightly to my arm. This will be rough."

Apparition turned out to be similar to teleportation, but instead of being comfortable and steady like in the movies, it was the most uncomfortable experience Harry had ever had. His body felt like it was being stretched by machines in all directions, and at the same time being squeezed into a tube. He would never choose this mode of travel as long as he had the option of walking up to 10 miles. He now understood why the professor wanted them to have lunch so early. He distinctly wondered why his dog wouldn't feel this disorientation as the trunk had also apparated.

A few minutes later they were standing on the driveway of No. 4, Privet Drive. _Time to say goodbye to the wonderful day. The day would only get worse from here._

In the reddish glow of the sunset, with the wind blowing gently, they rang the bell. Sounds of rushed footsteps came through the door, which was flung open soon after. Standing in front of them was Uncle Vernon with a shotgun pointed at them.

"YOU! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO PETUNIA? MAKE HER ALRIGHT AGAIN IF YOU NO WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU?"

Harry hurriedly took a step back. He knew his uncle was never one to step back when it comes to hurting someone, especially when there was no apparent reason. His uncle though suddenly stopped in his tracks, dropping the gun to the floor, where it turned, folded and changed to a ball.

"Your uncle, I presume?" Professor McGonagall asked with an alarmed expression.

Aunt Petunia, who was standing in the back of a hall screeched… except that no sound came from her. Her hair looked disheveled and her eyes were red. It looked like she had been crying all day.

Professor McGonagall stared at her astonished. His uncle stumbled back in a sudden movement, his eyes wide and hands shaking. "See what you have done! My sweet Petunia can't make any sound since you bewitched her! All the _doctors_ thought she was faking it. Poor Dudley has been beside himself all day long," his uncle claimed.

"Forgive me. I didn't realize… We are fortunate that the ministry isn't here yet."

Uncle Vernon staggered back as she entered the house. She raised her wand and pointed it at Aunt Petunia who looked scared out of her remaining wits and muttered a few words.

"Please try to screech now. I am sure your neighbors will be able to hear you properly."

"I…I…," Aunt Petunia released a long breath.

"There you go. Hopefully, there aren't any side effects. I am afraid I am not very good at countering this spell," she said alarming his aunt again.

Harry could see the little twitch of her mouth though. He was thinking this to be such a useful spell. He could make anyone shut their mouth. _Brilliant! And don't you need to utter most spells_ _before casting them?_ He added it to his list of spells he had to learn as soon as possible. Harry felt a little sorry for his aunt. Dudley though must have found it very funny to see his mom trying to make a sound all day. He didn't know what Dudley told his dad, but he surely wasn't that upset.

Everyone was silent for a minute before Professor McGonagall spoke again, "Mr. Dursley, as you know that Harry has been accepted into Hogwarts for the next term starting September 1st. We have arranged his entry into Hogwarts, and have bought the necessary supplies. Hogwarts education is fully funded by our ministry so you won't have to _worry_ about that. The train will depart from King's Cross station at 10 AM. You'd have to take Harry there," she said giving Harry the tickets to the train. "Look for a barrier between Platform 9 and 10. You must run directly into that barrier. You may also wait for some other children to do so."

Harry nodded. He looked at Uncle Vernon who clearly wanted to refuse but nodded reluctantly.

"Thank you, Professor. For everything! And don't worry about Spock. I would take care of him, and would make sure he is ready to harass all the cats at Hogwarts!" Harry said gratefully. Professor McGonagall had turned out to be his favorite person.

"You named him _Spock?_ " she said.

"And no need to thank me. I was only doing my job. And _you_ ," she said turning to his uncle and aunt, "I hear that you received a warning from Dumbledore on your behavior towards Mr. Potter. I would advise you to treat him properly from now on. If I found out that you took _one_ wrong step… then I could do much worse than that ball lying over there. Do I make myself clear?"

His aunt, who still seemed incapable of making any sound, nodded. His uncle looked like someone had offered him a rotten pudding, and was about to say something belligerent, but stopped on seeing the wand that was suddenly in her hand. He too nodded quickly.

"I would be taking my leave then. Mr. Potter, ensure that you read the wizarding manuals thoroughly, though I expect you to try to start on all of your books. Remember about using your wand," she said giving him a severe look.

The three of them watched her leaving calmly through the door. They were all silent for few moments, and then Uncle Vernon noticed what he was wearing.

"What the hell are you wearing boy? I won't allow this unnatural behavior in my HOUSE."

"Oh. These… these robes are normal for us wizards. I can call Professor McGonagall back if you don't like me wearing them," he said tapping his cheek.

"NO… no need for that. You can wear normal clothes here, can't you?"

He waited for a moment before nodding. No need to aggravate them unnecessarily after having his fun.

"I'll be in my room if you want anything. Oh, I almost forgot. I have got a new dog with me… Don't worry, I'll take care of him, and clean after him. Just make sure that you don't annoy him – he is magical and can cause loads of bad luck for you."

His uncle looked like he had his last bit of that rotten pudding.

"You brought another one of your freak pets with you! As if that blasted owl wasn't enough. This is my house! And I decide who sleeps and shits in this house!"

His uncle just didn't learn. Previously. he had no way of stopping him, but ever since that fortunate day last month, he knew he had something which could stop his uncle in his rants.

"He was a gift from Professor McGonagall. She would be very angry if she heard you were acting like this."

His uncle looked like he was starting to digest that rotten pudding.

"Look, boy, I know what you are doing. But, I won't have you threaten me in my house. You can't just wave your hands and destroy everything I have earned through hard work and strife."

"I am not threatening you, Uncle _._ It's just a month till I have to be here, and then I will be gone. Just act like you did this last month and we will be fine."

His uncle nodded. "Fine by me. I won't allow any freakishness here. Where the hell is your dog anyway?"

"He's in my pocket, along with all of my Hogwart's stuff," Harry said casually.

"He's in your pocket! How…what is he doing there?"

"I don't know. Eating or sleeping, I guess," Harry said making his uncle gape at him wide-eyed.

"I better take him out. Though, I think I'll do that in my room. See you at dinner," he said leaving the astonished couple behind.

* * *

Harry sat on in bed reading the introduction manual set to wizarding world. It described everything from the wizarding culture, its history and how it is run, what Ministry of Magic does, what an average witch or wizard does for a living, what you'll be taught at Hogwarts and how it will impact you in the future. It was very interesting and he couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts. He let his mind wander to his first foray into the wizarding world. It was eye-opening, to say the least.

People's perception of him had taken a 180-degree turn, but his perception of himself hadn't changed at all. He was still the same Harry as before, one who was trying to survive and find an escape route to his confined life. His surroundings were no longer the same. The rules that seemed to govern his life had changed. No. Not exactly changed. He had become aware of some features of his life of which he was ignorant before. All his previous exertions, efforts to control his life, and hypothetical wanderings to change his life were laid bare in front of him, no longer helpful.

He must change his act now, how he reacted to events and people. To do that he must change himself. He was no longer the same scrawny kid. He was a scrawny kid who was more famous than the pope in the wizarding world, and who was similarly revered. People looked up to him and told fantasy stories about him to their kids. The problem was that he didn't know what he wanted now. He just wanted to blend in with others, have friends and enjoy with them. But he had been warned about that by Lyanna and he kind of agreed with her. Harry just couldn't imagine a situation where he could just be normal. So, what will he be? _Well, I have a lot of time to figure that out._

He looked at the little bundle of energy trying to rip apart Dudley's mini firetruck with his still-developing teeth. He had decided after a couple of days that his dog was insane. No matter what Harry did, or how hard he shouted at him or scolded him, the damn dog took it as a praise. The first time it happened when he took the dog out of the trunk after coming back from Diagon Alley. He proceeded to dash around wildly in his room and promptly crouched down to poop near his bed. When Harry tried to reprimand him, the dog looked completely pleased listening to him. Harry had never been so grateful for anything than he was for the Poop-Snatcher. The moment he took it out of his trunk, it swooped in on the offensive thing and gobbled it up.

Hedwig, the name he had given his owl, had looked at the puppy unblinkingly and stared at him with a look that promised retribution. She had flown out of the window without looking behind and didn't come back for the first few days.

It had taken Spock a few days to adjust to the new surroundings with him running around, sniffing things, jumping whenever the TV was switched on or when the doorbell ranged or the shower turned on. After that it was a series of recurring events of him running around, wagging his tail, and biting. Oh, he bites. The book said he will do so for the first few months when his teeth would be developing which caused itching to his gums. What ensued was a repetition of him trying to stop Spock from chewing his shoes, his socks, his clothes, his hands, his bed, even his own poop. He gave him Dudley's old toys for chewing. He had also decided to keep the Poop-snatcher out of his trunk. It had the ability to sense anything that needed to be cleaned within the whole house. Even the Dursleys were grateful for it after the black rug pounced and started absorbing the piddle in front of the main bedroom. His aunt was about to screech at the damn mutt that was happily wagging his tail in front of her.

Harry turned his attention to the clock in his room. In a few minutes, the day would end, and bring along 31st of July, his 11th birthday. The Dursleys as always would ignore it, but he wanted to make this day special. He had already planned a trip to the park in the morning with Spock, and just sit there reading his books and playing with his dog.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Spock turned to the window and started barking. Oh yes, he has just recently learned to bark. And he loved to bark, just like he loved everything he did.

"No Spock! Stop! You'd wake them up!" Harry whispered heatedly.

The damn dog turned his attention to Harry, started wagging his tail and with another bark, started barking at the owl that wanted to come in. Hedwig opened her eyes from the top of her make-shift porch on a stool. She hooted irritatingly at Spock, startling him as if just realizing that Hedwig too was present in the room.

Harry hurriedly opened his trunk and offered few treats to shut him up, belatedly realizing that this would further encourage him to bark to get treats. _Well, something to add to CRUEL*._ He opened the window to let the owl in. It was holding a packet in its leg which was dropped in Harry's hands.

Curious about the timing of the package, Harry took the letter that was attached to it. The owl stared at Hedwig for a few moments and made a noise, which was ignored with all of Hedwig's inherent haughtiness. It then moved to drink the water from her bowl. Harry opened the letter.

 _Harry,_

 _Happy Birthday! I bet you are surprised that you are receiving a birthday present through an owl. I am the first, aren't I?_ (There was a little drawing of a stick figure which twirled every few seconds.)

 _You know what… I was promoted! After our head of our department found out that such a high-profile case was solved so efficiently, without having to contact the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, he was very impressed. Sadly, I won't be working with Norman now._

 _I don't think it would have been possible without you. So, I wanted to thank you in the pretense of giving you a birthday gift. The package contains a Mokeskin Pouch – a very rare magical item, which you might remember from my visit. You won't find this anywhere in Diagon Alley._

 _You must be so excited to attend Hogwarts. I know, I was. You have received your Hogwarts letter, haven't you? Contact me if you have any questions about Hogwarts or magic – yes, even during attending Hogwarts. I have written my address below._

 _Looking forward to hearing from you!_

 _Lyanna_

Harry read the letter with surprise and joy evident on his face. He opened the wrapped package to find a small green bag. There was a note attached to it.

 _There's an Undetectable Extension Charm applied on it, so you can store objects several sizes larger than it. Just say the name of the object to retrieve it from the pouch. Put this letter into it and try to retrieve it. Only the owner can get the object back. It will come in very handy, believe me._

Harry had an intense desire to try it right away. He put Lyanna's letter in the pouch, and then said "Letter from Lyanna". The letter jumped back out of the pouch into his hand.

 _Wow!_ He was surprised when another letter came flying out of the pouch. Harry resisted the urge to jump for the fear of waking his relatives and exciting his overexcited dog, who had just finished his treats and was looking curiously at the letter. Harry knew what was coming next. Spock will try to sniff it and take it in his mouth.

Harry hastily moved the second letter away from him. What followed was a complaining sound, followed by another series of barks.

"WHAT IN THE RUDDY HELL IS WRONG WITH THAT MUTT, BOY?! MAKE HIM STOP IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU?"

"Spock! Stop, please! He will come here!" Harry said desperately.

Thankfully, something in his tone did make him stop, but he was still wagging his tail looking at him, letter forgotten. However, everyone could hear the sound of someone heavy rushing through the corridor. Harry wished that he could turn invisible, not wanting to face the wrath of a sleep-deprived angry Uncle Vernon.

There was a flash of fire in the middle of the room startling the two owls, the dog, and Harry, and then the door to his bedroom opened. Hovering in front of them was the most majestic bird he had ever seen, chirping a sweet melody which seemed to bring a lull in time, arousing in him a peaceful feeling, and a soaring joy in that timeless blissful moment. It was holding a thin package.

Uncle Vernon saw the assembly of two owls, a beautiful red bird with sharp talons making a sweet sound, his nephew looking at everything slack-jawed, and that ruddy dog jumping around and turning as if this was the best day in his life. Strangely enough, he didn't feel the expected anger.

"What is going on here, boy?" he said in a shaky voice.

* * *

A/N: A hidden letter? Hmm, what could it be? I have outlined the general direction in which I want this story to move, and it is coming along better than I thought it would. Hope you liked this chapter! Thank you for the few, yet beautiful reviews. It brightens my day and motivates me to sit down and write more. Keep'em coming, folks!

*CRUEL - Crucial Rules for Urbane and Extended Life


	7. Gone With The Wind

Chapter 7 - Gone With The Wind

* * *

 _Like every creature, you can know when you are in the presence of danger. You have an unswerving, internal guardian that stands ready to warn you of dangers and guides you through risky situations. Dogs are vaunted for their intuition, but humans have a better intuitive ability shaped by their higher intelligence. A dog has total trust in their intuition, whereas humans have forgotten to rely on their instincts preferring their intelligence. However, the problem with your intelligence is that it is a double-edged sword. Intelligence should be driven by your instincts, not against them._

* * *

"What's this?! It looks like something a _cow_ would eat! I want some beef!" complained Dudley crinkling his nose.

"Oh, my sweet pumpkin! I know this looks gross, but believe me, it tastes good. Remember what your doctor said – you have to eat some green vegetables if you want to grow up and become like your dad," said Aunt Petunia in a sugary voice.

"Dudley, look at me! I am eating it, aren't I?"

Dudley made a whiny noise and refused to budge. Harry noticed this from the corner of his eyes, but his main attention was on his dog.

"Sit! Spock, sit!"

The dog looked at the messy haired boy curiously before turning his attention to the bowl of food in his hands.

"No Spock, sit!" Harry clicked his fingers as a cue before moving the bowl of food behind his back.

The dog made a whiny noise before sitting down with a hopeful look on his face.

"Good boy! Now shake hands, shake hands!" Harry said clipping his fingers once more.

The dog had his right paw in the air before Harry had even uttered the words. Harry laughed and laid the food bowl next to his chair, which was happily attacked by Spock.

The book, "Training Your Dog – As Simple as Casting a Lumos", mentioned using Lumos as a behavior marker for training a dog, but Harry believed that clipping his fingers ought to work just as well. The principle was quite simple yet quite insightful.

 _Whenever the dog does something that you want to train, for ex. sits on the floor, create a positive association with the action._

Simple right. One would only perform actions that they believe to be beneficial. But, how would you tell a dog, an alien species to us, that sitting is beneficial? You need to understand each other's actions and behavior for that. You could keep praising them for the action whenever they do it, but that will not work. The dogs are an alien species to us. Most of the time they like us so much that everything we do is a "thumbs up" to them. So, the system of praising and scolding will not work properly with them. These do not create strong enough associations in their mind to propel a change in behavior and actions.

 _We are intelligent enough to realize subtle clues that describe an action or behavior to be beneficial. Dogs are different, simpler creatures. There is only one thing that dogs usually like more than yourself, food. The stomach is the gateway to manipulate their minds._

It took Spock a few repeats to realize that Harry was not giving him treats for free. Harry could literally see the wheels turning in Spock's mind when he sat down purposefully with the sole intention of getting treats. The next step was to maintain the positive association without having to rely on treats. You wouldn't want your dog to obey you just in the presence of treats.

 _Passing the positive association from the satiating rewards to something worthless is quite simple. The mind is very easy to fool. Once it believes something and once the behavior is established, positive results are not necessary for its continuation. The mind internalizes the belief and moves on to other things, examining them through the lens of all of its previous beliefs. It doesn't care to analyze whether that belief is still useful._

The next few repeats had Harry clicking his fingers after Spock sat followed by a diminishing reward of treats. Harry saw astonished as something as rubbish as a click of his fingers slowly replaced the satisfaction of tasty treats. Spock was soon wagging his tail when he heard the sound of clicked fingers and was dashing to sit in front of Harry without the expectation of rewards. Harry was not quite sure how he felt about that.

 _Now, all you need to do is to teach them our language._

Just as he associated the sound of his clicked fingers with the satisfaction of tasty treats, he added another behavior marker, the word "sit", followed by the click. After another dozen or so attempts, Spock was sitting when he said "sit" without the need for any click or treats. Still, Harry gave him some treats after he followed his commands three times in a row. Spock now thought that sitting when Harry said "sit" was very good and sometimes got him treats.

Harry had then taught him to shake hands using just the clipping of his fingers and then associating the words "shake hands" with the action. Spock now thought the sound of clicking meant he had done something good.

In a week, Harry had trained Spock to sit, shake hands, lie down and jump. Imagining new ways of train Spock became Harry's favorite way to pass his time.

"Jesus Christ! Just give the dog his food, will you? Why's he gotta do a trick first? _You_ don't have to do crap before _you_ eat," Uncle Vernon complained narrowing his eyes.

"Sorry Uncle Vernon. But the book mentioned this as the best way to train a dog and to make them more docile. Otherwise, he would get spoiled like… um, me, and won't listen when he grows up."

"I am telling you, that mutt is going to bite your hands off when he grows up. He doesn't even let anyone pet him! And what about his vaccines? Do your people even know about that?"

"He's not going to bite when he's older! It's just a phase he is going through now. As soon as his teeth get fully developed he will stop," Harry said ignoring his second question. What his uncle said was true, and Harry was quite worried about it. He would have to ask Professor McGonagall about that.

"And don't call him "good boy" every time he looks at you. He will begin to think that his name is "good boy"," Uncle Vernon said chuckling at his own joke.

"And you just had to buy a Dalmatian, didn't you? Didn't Marge use to tell us how she hated them? And Spock? Really? Wasn't he a character from some stupid American crap?"

Harry sighed. His uncle was on a role today. "Dalmatians are very clever and loyal, and they look so cool. Why wouldn't anyone like them?" Harry said shaking his head. He ignored the second question. He didn't want to tell them that he liked a character named "Spock" after playing one of Dudley's computer games.

"They look like they belong to a circus," he laughed again at his joke.

Harry ignored him again, and proceeded to eat his food, thinking silently, as the other three focused on Dudley.

It's been four days since his eventful birthday. His late-night confrontation with Uncle Vernon went without much trouble. His uncle had behaved more cordially than he ever would have thought, which for him was a grunt and a low-key warning not to make any more noise. Harry had a suspicion that it was due to the alien bird that had visited him because the next morning his uncle was back to his usual bothersome behavior. He guessed it didn't help that he had suddenly appeared out of the blue in the middle of the living room scaring Dudley. His invisibility cloak and the Mokeskin pouch were truly the most remarkable gifts anyone could have got. The invisibility cloak was actually his heritage, but he felt indebted to the kind stranger for giving him something of his parents. His invisibility cloak, his father's look, and his mother's eyes were the only things that he had of his parents, and he didn't know he had them prior to this month. The second letter from Lyanna was a surprise, but a welcome one nonetheless.

 _Harry,_

 _Quite impressive, isn't it? They are extremely difficult to find, you know. But I have many important contacts at the ministry and you deserved one of those._

 _I admit though that I had a slightly ulterior motive in getting you that gift. If you would open your Mokeskin pouch again and say, Lockhart, you'd find a Chocolate Frog card._

 _You must be wondering what this is. It's a portkey, one that will take you to my house in Tinworth. I want you to come and visit me. The ministry doesn't actually allow us to study the poltergeists we have captured, and due to their rarity, you can't easily find one yourself. I desire to inspect your ring and am also excited to have a nice dinner with you this Sunday. Due to the covert nature of this request, I would appreciate if you don't tell anyone about this._

 _If you decide to visit, go to some blocks away from your house in the evening, and say "boy who lived"._

 _Looking forward to meeting you again!_

 _Lyanna_

Harry had read the letter with furrowed brows. When he opened the Mokeskin pouch and said "Lockhart", a maroon colored card had jumped into his hands with the same photo as Harry's book on one side and an inscription on the other side which said – _"Gilderoy Lockhart is a celebrated author with several ingenious works to his name."_

 _She sure likes him._ Harry also wondered about this request. This really came out of the blue. And what she was asking him to do was against the ministry rules. _Well, it wasn't as if it would hurt anyone, or I don't want to meet her, or have anything else to do._

He had been in high spirits throughout the week after that. His days were far less boring now since Spock had arrived. All his crazy antics have grown on him. It brought a smile to his face every time he saw the puppy growling at his toys, or trying to destroy those toys, or barking at the chair, or trying to get on Harry's bed, or whining when Harry won't lift him to his bed. He shuddered to think what would happen when he would get big enough to jump on his bed – most probably, he would have to say goodbye to quality sleep time.

The rest of his time was spent reading. And what a reading it was. His previous magic book already assumed that he was familiar with all forms of magic, so he wasn't able to glean as much understanding as he wanted to have. But now, he was thoroughly immersed in the world they described. From Transfiguration, which required precise control over your imagination and control of magic, to Charms, where one thrived by the finesse of their magic, to Defense against the dark arts, where once mindfulness of potential dangers combined with their skill in spells was vital, to Herbology, which described a whole new world of magical plants, each with their own purpose and extensive applications, to Potions, a subtle art which wanted for patience, planning, knowledge of magical ingredients and intuition. He thought it would have been better if they had prescribed a book which explained magical ingredients and their properties in a better way. He should probably look for something like that in the school library.

He had also taken to read Hogwarts, a History. It was fascinating to read its History. How the four founders came together to create a school that would teach magic to everyone, not just the pureblood students who had the luxury of previously learning it from their families. It was the onset of the emergence of something akin to a structure in the magical world… or rather segregation of the magical world. Hogwarts' influence grew, the magical world got more connected and soon other organizations were created to handle the rapidly increasing diversity in the world in the form of a whole new culture. Where previously wands, magical items, and all other magical things were limited to a select few wizards with contacts, after Hogwarts' establishment, their demand started increasing, resulting in the rise of new shops and magical areas. Magical beings started living closer to each other and apart from their muggle counterparts in magical homes. This sudden upsurge in magical activity necessitated the need for regulation and governance. Soon… or a long time later, after a hundred years of Hogwarts foundation Ministry of Magic was established, and soon… or a long time thereafter Gringotts was opened.

He also loved to imagine all the things described in it about Hogwarts. Vast enchanted ceilings, revolving staircases, the Forbidden forest; his mind spun with all the wonderful things described in it. There was even a poltergeist that roamed at Hogwarts, pranking students and even teachers. Students were advised to stay away from him.

Harry laughed suddenly, prompting the Dursleys to shoot him alarmed looks, as he recalled an amusing and slightly terrifying incident mentioned in the book. In 1876, the then Hogwarts caretaker devised an elaborate trap to remove Peeves from the castle. He placed several enticing weapons (for Peeves) – several crossbows, a blunderbuss, which he didn't know what it was, some swords, and a cannon, at a location in Hogwarts which was conveyed secretly to Peeves. The plan was to drop a vast enchanted bell jar, reinforced by various Containment Charms, over the poltergeist once he was in place. Naturally, it didn't go according to plan as several students were seen running for their lives from a poltergeist who had somehow acquired weapons of mass destruction. The Castle had to be evacuated for three days as Peeves amused himself by firing randomly and threatening the students with death. The Headmistress of the day was forced to sign a contract with Peeves so that he relinquished the weapons in exchange for additional privileges – a once-weekly swim in the boys' toilets on the ground floor, first choice on stale bread from the kitchens for throwing purposes, and a new custom-made hat.

His attention was brought back to the room due to the movement near his chair. Spock was playing with his food bowl again.

"Come on, Spock. Let's go to our room," Harry said as he finished his lunch and placed the dishes in the sink.

Harry climbed up a few stairs and looked back. Spock was still looking at the stairs warily. Two weeks and he still wasn't used to them. Harry knew that if he climbed a bit further, Spock will follow him. But giving a small mercy, Harry picked him up, which he accepted eagerly. At the top of the stairs, Harry tried to put him down, but seeing a protest, he relented and carried him up to the room.

 _Well, now I have four hours to kill,_ he thought before picking up Hogwarts, a History from the shelf. He had been very careful with where he kept his books since the incident with his Magical Theory book, or what was left of it after Spock was finished with it.

* * *

Harry was walking down the streets towards the spot where he entered the Knight Bus. He had put Spock in his trunk along with his toys and some treats. He was eagerly waiting to meet Lyanna. He had many questions for her regarding his books and also wanted to see some of the spells at work. Harry once again cursed his incapability to do magic. _A wizard told not to do magic._ What a joke. It was like prohibiting a lion to hunt. He was made to do magic.

"Harry! Where are you going?" A voice called, which he quickly recognized as that of Mrs. Figg.

 _Doesn't that woman have anything else to do?_ Harry thought bitterly. Every time he went out for a walk, this woman would appear to harass him, and sometimes even to join him. _Had the Dursleys put her up to me?_

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Figg. I am just going out to get some toys for my dog at the pet store," Harry replied hoping she'd leave him alone.

"Really. I have never been to this pet store. Do you mind if I join you?" Mrs. Figg said with a slight close-lipped smile stroking Tibby, her white cat in her hands.

"Sorry, I would prefer if you don't. I want to prove to my aunt that I can handle the responsibility of owning a dog. If you'd come with me, it would kind of… defeat the, um, purpose," Harry said looking at her hopefully.

"Hmm, that's alright dear. I guess, I'd visit that shop sometimes later," Mrs. Figg said as she walked away.

With that, a triumphant little boy continued on his undertaking. Reaching his destination, he took the card from his pocket a little apprehensively. Harry felt a chill as he looked at the card, feeling a disquieting ringing in his skin. Attributing it to his bad experiences with magical travel, he forced himself to say the keyword – "boy who lived", not noticing a white lithe cat watching him closely.

Instantly, Harry felt an immense push forward, and he was lifted off the ground at tremendous speed. A swirl of colors, wind howling in his ears, his eyes popping before he closed them. And as suddenly it was over, as he fell face first into the damp soil.

Harry stood up gingerly and looked around. The ominous feeling that started after he took the card was rising. Rows of tombstones stood left and right amidst the whistling wind. It didn't look like anyone lived near it. There was a dark silhouette of a ruin at some distance, and a big house could be seen on a hill nearby. Harry knew this wasn't Tinworth.

He heard rather than saw two people coming towards him in the rising darkness. His spirit soared when he recognized one of them as Lyanna.

"Lyanna," Harry said loudly, "where are we?"

She said nothing as they came nearer. Harry looked into her eyes and felt a deep unease at seeing the glossy and hollow look in them. He felt an urge to run and hide. The man was tall and bald. He was holding a small bundle of robes in his hands, which looked like a snake coiled up into a ball.

He was suddenly having trouble breathing and noticed that a pain was rising in his head as they came nearer.

"Petrificus Totalus!" the man shouted pointing his wand at him.

Harry dropped to the floor as all feelings in his body vanished into nothingness.

"H-Harry," he heard Lyanna uttering his name.

There was a shrill laugh. " _We meet again,_ _Harry Potter_ ," said the same shrill voice which seemed to ring throughout the graveyard bringing with it a torrent of pain in his scar.

* * *

A/N: This was a hard chapter to write. Mostly because many important things that happen don't make the page. Like, how Lyanna got herself in this position, their plan to send the portkey through the wards, etc. Hope you liked it! I know some of you might not like the decision to introduce Voldemort so early, and would have wanted to see how this Harry performs at Hogwarts. But considering the differences from the cannon - here Harry is introduced a month earlier to the wizarding world with two witnesses who were ministry employees, it is likely that Voldemort might change his long convoluted plan to somehow infiltrate Hogwarts under Dumbledore's nose and steal the Philosopher's stone amidst all the protection they could offer. Additionally, I know this hasn't been done much in the fandom, and I like the challenge it poses.


	8. The Edge of Chaos

Chapter 8 - The Edge of Chaos

* * *

 _You live at the edge of chaos, at the precipice of a disaster. A single event draws forth huge changes in our reality. A slight bend of your wand, a single slip of your feet, a single spell, a slight delay, a rarefied meeting, an eye-opening talk, a revelatory book, even a single unexplanatory arrival of a thought in your mind. Your life will change in unimaginable ways because of a tiny spark at the tip of the ticking bomb that is your life. You have to learn that this change can be beneficial. Growth means change. You cannot grow at the other edge. This change can be disastrous too. You cannot escape it. You will bemoan it, cry about it, be haunted by it. But you can still grow in it. What will you choose, fight or flight? You choose it._

* * *

" _Hurry_ , Quirinus – and stun the girl. She seems to have broken the curse," the agitated voice commanded reverberating in the stillness of the area.

Harry couldn't feel his body or locate the searing pain rippling through his mind. He couldn't even move his lips to scream.

"Stupefy!" a stream of red filled his vision as another body fell to the ground.

Harry was forcefully picked up from the ground and carried in haste. His heart was pounding as he was pushed hard against a tall tombstone and tied tightly around it with stiff rough ropes. His vision was blurring due to the scalding pain in his head, and he could barely make out the massive stone cauldron in front of him, bubbling with shimmering water. The heat of the crackling flames beneath it hit him five feet away from it.

Harry was having trouble gathering his thoughts amidst the pain. _What was happening? Why was he tied to a tombstone?_

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bald man pull open the robes. He felt the instinct to recoil, but his body wasn't following it. What was contained in the robes was the most hideous and repulsive snake he had seen. It was very large. Parts of its flesh were swollen and rotting, and had turned black as if someone had burned it. Harry wanted to turn away as the whiff of its rotting odor hit him. This snake – this thing seemed to give off a sinful, diabolic vibe as it moved and hissed excitedly.

Suddenly Harry's body was moving, no thrashing, constrained by the rope as the rippling pain in his scar increased to unbearable proportions, causing tears to stream through his eyes. A terrible, sinking feeling was beginning to dawn in his mind. That _thing_ couldn't be, can't be… He screamed as the body was lowered into the cauldron.

The man then took out a black cloth from his cloak and shoved it into his mouth, before raising his wand towards the cauldron staring at it reverently.

" _The piece that was sacrificed, you will recreate what was lost again!"_

The shimmering water turned slimy green as if dissolving the skin of the snake that was sunk in the cauldron. Harry gave a muffled roar in agony as the already unbearable pain in his scar intensified. He felt as if someone was ripping apart his skin, trying to cut through his scar using a sharp knife. His vision was blurring, a sudden darkness enveloping his eyes.

The bald wizard was looking at the cauldron in surprise as it trembled in its position. He anxiously raised his wand to start the next step.

" _Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!_ "

The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked. A fine trickle of dust rose into the air at the command and fell softly into the cauldron. The shaking stopped. Harry took a large intake of breath. He had stopped breathing.

The man pulled a long, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice was muffled as he spoke.

" _Flesh — of the servant — willingly given — you will — revive — your master._ "

Harry watched horrified as the man cut through the index finger on his right hand without hesitation, and let it fall into the cauldron. He writhed on the ground grasping his hand as it spouted bursts of his blood.

The cauldron was now a deep burning red, casting an ominous reddish glow to their surroundings. The man stood up still squirming in pain and approached Harry holding the dagger. Harry wanted to shout, to run, to vanish. He called on his magic to do the impossible now, do the accidental magic that he knew he could perform.

" _Blood of the enemy – forcibly taken – you will – resurrect your foe!_ "

Harry got more desperate as the man came closer walking slowly. _Come on!_ Nothing. He could do nothing as the man slashed his right arm with the dagger. Blood was flowing freely from it, and the man took out a vial from his cloak with his left hand and collected the blood in it.

The man turned away and moved towards the cauldron. _Help! Somebody help me!_

A thought arose in Harry's mind as his eyes traveled to the place he was slashed. He started brushing his ring finger urgently with his thumb.

The cauldron was emitting flashing sparks now illuminating the dark surroundings letting out crackling sounds. The bald man was on his knees looking spellbindingly at the container.

Harry was holding the ring between the tips of his fingers and thumbs. Filled with desperation and sudden hope, he flicked the ring towards the cauldron, willing it fiercely to do something, anything.

Steam gushed forth from the container which obscured everything from view. _It's gone wrong,_ he thought. _It's drowned… it's dead… please, please let it be dead._

But his heart lurched when, through the steam, he saw a dark silhouette of a tall, thin man, and the pain in his scar renewed to a torturous degree. A hollow menacing laugh echoed in the graveyard.

"Pass me my robes, Quirinus." Every part of Harry was screaming at him to run, to flee from the being that emerged from the steam wearing the black robes.

"You have done well, Quirinus," he spoke in a smooth soft voice, yet which carried an iron tinge penetrating to the depth of his mind coercing a sense of compliance and submission. "Perhaps we can forgive your failure in retrieving the Philosopher's Stone. Give me your wand."

* * *

In a distant location, two wise old wizards were drinking together in a shady looking pub in a small magical village. The atmosphere showed total contrast to the graveyard.

"That young couple didn't know who I was. They thought I was you," Aberforth laughed. "I told them, 'How it warms my heart to see such young couples sharing such a magical moment.' I felt very strange, like an old fart, but I knew that's what weird old farts say. On an inspiration, I added, 'It brings back memories of those wondrous nights in my youth, full of joy, pleasure, and – what do they say now, yeah, some randiness. Why, you remind me precisely of myself,' I said looking pointedly at the girl in a frilly pink dress wearing ribbons in her hair," he said now laughing wildly. "I have never seen someone look so horrified, not even when facing Death Eaters. I haven't seen those two here again," he said between gasps.

Albus Dumbledore shared the amusement of his younger brother. "It's a wonder they consider me mad, although I perhaps would have said something similar," he said joining the laugh taking a sip of his firewhiskey.

They were silent for a minute except for the occasional laugh escaping both of the wizards.

"Abe, this is life. This is the magic that everyone wants to learn. The magic that you cannot learn alone. People want to learn spells to enchant things, they want to brew potions to become powerful, they want to control everything around them," he scoffed. "They have ambitions of becoming someone grand, doing something momentous that causes everyone to look in awe, raising them to the throne that they deserve to be. Everyone thinks like that, and everybody knows it. They will work arduously to achieve that, forcing themselves to move forward, always carrying a nagging feeling of doubt, of an uncertainty. Why do we never pay heed to it? Why do we ignore the only things that are important in life? Why do we never teach these things, Abe?"

Aberforth put his hand on his shoulders to provide comfort. Albus came to his pub every week to visit him. They would sometimes just talk for long nights walking along the grounds of Hogwarts, sometimes they would visit a place from their past, and sometimes, on his demand, have some drinks. He knew that Albus treasures this time. No matter how much work he had to do for all the organizations that he worked for, he always made time for it. Occasionally, he would find his brother's eyes on his saying so much, full of sorrow for instances long in the past, but forever imprinted in their memories. Albus may never have forgiven himself, but Aberforth had long since forgiven him. Aberforth always scoffed when he heard someone describe his brother. He had heard him described as a powerful mysterious old wizard, or a cunning and ambitious sorcerer holding many key positions of power, or a manipulative leader controlling everything around him, or even a dark lord in disguise. Every one of them was wrong.

His brother was a very simple man who did everything in his power to the right thing. And if anyone in this world could be trusted to do the right thing, Aberforth could imagine no one better than Albus Dumbledore.

"Come now, you old fart, don't be such a bore. It's your turn to tell a story. It's always me who carries such evenings."

"I am certain that you wouldn't have it any other way. But, I do seem to recall an amusing story. Have I told you about some goats and what a man did to them?" Albus said, a twinkle reaching his eyes.

"Your nose is looking better today. Do you want me to remedy it?"

"Oh, so you have heard," Albus said laughing. "I am certain that you'd also like the story of why Minerva had to buy Harry Potter a dog."

"Really? That I have to hear."

They were both interrupted by a luminous translucent doe that flew past the wall they were sitting beside.

"Headmaster," came the soft voice of Severus Snape, "the dark mark started burning black unexpectedly." And then the doe disappeared in a thin wisp of cloud.

The two brothers looked intensely at each other before the younger one gulped the remaining of his firewhiskey and said, "The patronus of Severus Snape is a doe?"

"Aberforth!" Albus admonished.

"Ok, ok. Shit!"

Just then, the entrance door was pushed open, and a harried-looking Arabella Figg entered the empty pub.

"There you are, Albus! I've been looking for you everywhere!" she said fiercely.

"Not now, Arabella. There are more pressing matters."

"Harry has gone missing!"

There was silence in the pub before the younger brother said, "Bummers."

Albus suddenly got out of his chair, and in a flash of fire, a phoenix appeared near them.

"Aberforth, get the old crowd together."

He whirled his wand and a silvery phoenix appeared. He said to it, "Severus, contact Lucius." And it disappeared through the walls.

"Arabella, think of where Harry was seen last… We couldn't have chosen a more inopportune time to drink together," he said holding her hand.

Aberforth emptied the rest of Albus' glass too.

* * *

Lord Voldemort was currently laughing loudly as he examined his new body sending waves of terror into Harry with each passing moment.

"Master! Master, you are strong again," said the bald man holding his hand tightly with an ecstatic laugh.

"Yes, Quirinus. You have done well. You will be rewarded beyond your dreams," he said giving him a wide disturbing smile.

"Thank you, my lord, you are very generous," he said bowing deeply. "Shall I kill the boy for you, my lord?"

" _No!_ Harry Potter will die by my hands… but I must have witnesses to see the defeat of the boy-who-lived by my hands. It's a shame you don't have a dark mark, and that I might need you at Hogwarts."

Harry was shivering as he looked at the person responsible for his parent's death. A person so evil that people were afraid of uttering his name. Voldemort was looking at him with a cruel smile, which was like being hunted by death itself.

"I am afraid, Harry, you must wait for a little before I kill you. I hope you don't mind," Voldemort said mocking him. Harry still had the black cloth padded into his mouth. Even if Harry could have spoken, he didn't think he would have had the capacity to do so. He was utterly terrified of what was happening.

He walked up to Lyanna's body and waved the wand he was holding at her. She stirred from her position and looked at her surroundings in confusion. She scrambled back on seeing Voldemort's face falling on her back again.

" _Lyanna Traymere!_ What a blessing you've been for us. Without you, capturing our friend Harry here would have been an unpleasant endeavor, protected by the extensive wards at his house, and under the watchful gaze of that muggle-loving fool, Albus Dumbledore, at Hogwarts," said the cold voice.

Lyanna was gaping at Voldemort, and her eyes widened at seeing Harry Potter bound to the tombstone.

"Lord Voldemort does not forget who helped him, even if it was done unknowingly. You are pure of blood, and I am in need of a Death Eater. I find myself interested in how you would respond to this offer. How deeply had Dumbledore ingrained his ideals into today's wizards' souls, I wonder," Voldemort said looking Lyanna in the eyes.

"You are no lover of Dumbledore, I see. That indeed does you favor … But I am disappointed by the sympathy I see for Harry Potter… Resistance is futile Lyanna – no occlumency shields will hold against me."

Lyanna was silent for a while before she spoke. "Forgive me, my lord. I hold no devotion to Harry Potter. I will gladly submit to your will and become a Death Eater."

" _Lies!_ I can see doubt in your eyes. I can see the fear in you. You think you can _lie_ to me," he said raising his wand. "I am Lord Voldiiiii!" his breath hitched at the end as he came to a screeching halt.

Time stopped.

Voldemort was holding his neck, and looking around fearfully. His gaze landed on Harry as everyone looked at him with a shocked expression.

"What is _this trickery_ , boy?" he said looking at his trembling form bound tightly around the tombstone, incapable of making any noise. He closed his eyes for a few seconds spreading his fingers and pointing them to his head.

"You think you can fight against Lord Voldemort! You _dare_ to use such trickery against me! _Cruci-_ " His wand flew out of his hands and fell a few feet away from him.

Every heart started beating faster. Voldemort moved to pick the wand but stumbled on the way.

"Master! My lord, are you alright?" said the bald man, hurrying towards his master as he picked the wand.

" _Stand_ _aside!_ I do not need your help! _Crucio!_ "

The man shrieked and writhed on the floor. Harry was sure his voice could be heard from the village. _Please let someone hear it._

Voldemort was looking quite pleased with himself for having tortured someone who he was previously talking about rewarding.

"I must confess I didn't think that I would be quite so frail in my new body, or it would need some time to adapt to it," he said turning to him.

The black cloth muffled Harry's screams as the pain in his head intensified under his penetrating gaze.

"You are not doing anything, are you, boy. You know no magic… _Pathetic_. And the world thinks this boy caused my downfall. _Ridiculous!_ " He started raising his wand towards Harry but stopped midway. Harry noticed that his hands were shaking slightly.

" _Girl!_ Tell me your answer. Choose your words carefully – your life may depend on it."

Lyanna looked alarmed for a few moments before bowing down on her knees. "My lord, I would be honored to be a Death Eater. Any fondness you see towards Harry Potter is false, created by the constant preaching of the legend of the boy who lived, just as your legend inspires devotion to you. But as I stand here now, watching Harry Potter helpless against Lord Voldemort who has miraculously returned from the dead as powerful as ever, there is no question in my mind where my loyalties should lie."

" _Excellent!_ You believe what you just said. But I am sure that given the choice, you would not prefer this way… But you will learn better. Listen carefully girl, I demand eternal devotion from you. Your own life is forfeit and you live in the service of your master. And in return, I will reward your efforts beyond your imagination. I ask once more, are you willing for _this_ level of commitment?" he said in the same soft voice which seemed to carry the undercurrents of danger and mortal threat.

Lyanna was silent for a moment. She looked at him in the eyes and said, "I am willing, my lord. I await your command… master."

Voldemort marched forward and raised her clutching her shoulders. Giving her a cold smile, he commanded, "Kill Harry Potter."

Harry saw the back of her shoulders slump before she turned to him slowly. Harry didn't recognize the look in her eyes, even though they had lost their previous glassy look. She hesitated for a moment before moving towards him. Tears were forming in her eyes as she took in his beaten appearance and the futile situation, but she trudged on.

"You know why I have to do this, Harry. I am really sorry."

Harry was looking frightfully at her, wishing for some way, any way to make him escape. He struggled against the ropes that bound him, as he tried to say desperately to her, _help me._

Lyanna looked at him for long moments. She began raising her wand. Some part of Harry which hadn't already deserted him in fright thought he recognized something in her eyes, the fight she was having with herself as she pointed her wand at his chest. She shouted, "Portu –"

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " words were said at a blistering speed before she had even started to cast her spell, followed by a flash of green light, and Lyanna was blasted back from the impact.

A cold maniacal laugh echoed in the graveyard sending shivers to Harry's very bones. He didn't understand what was happening. Blinded by the flaring pain in his scar, he could barely see the slender figure lying a few feet away from him.

 _No, it couldn't be… This wasn't how this was supposed to go._ A muffled howl escaped Harry; tears falling freely from his face.

Suddenly, the laughter stopped. Lyanna had groaned and was still breathing. Voldemort stared wide-eyed at her movement. He looked at the wand in his hand, and Harry could see his shock.

He gave a searching look through the area carefully. He stared at Harry's eyes for long painful moments, and his eyes widened.

" _Interesting._ You think such a minor interference could affect the ritual. A ritual _I_ designed. _"_ He gave another cold laugh.

He closed his eyes and moved his wand in a circular arc above his head. In a deep voice, he smoothly intoned, "Exoticum Spiritum Excidio." A high-pitched scream came from within Voldemort as he opened his mouth. A blue smoky vapor exuded from it. It rose high above them and condensed to form the shape of a child. A child with blue skin, wearing a professional attire, and a cowboy hat. It was also wearing yellow shiny goggles and had green lightning bolt marks on both of his cheeks.

Voldemort studied the poltergeist. "A beautiful aspect of magic. It could have been so useful." He shook his head and thrust his wand towards it.

The poltergeist shrieked as gashes appeared on his body as if it was being slashed by a sword.

"Anima Crepitus!" Voldemort shouted and gave another thrust of his wand.

Its body started bloating and with a loud bang, it exploded into black smoke.

Harry felt all his hopes deserting him. He couldn't see any way for him to escape. He just wished for Lyanna to survive this.

The bald man was now sitting on the ground staring at the spectacle in awe. Voldemort turned towards Harry and he felt the terror that he realized that in some way had haunted him his whole life.

"You think the poltergeist would have found that amusing, Harry? Would he find this amusing?" He raised the wand towards him and shouted "Crucio!"

Pain. Sheer pain. All he could feel was pain. It stopped after what felt like minutes. "No, it isn't amusing." The padded cloth in Harry's mouth was snatched by an invisible force. "Now it will be. Crucio!"

The sound of Harry's screams was dwarfed by the cold maniacal laugh of Lord Voldemort.

* * *

A/N: Oh no! Poor Harry. But Voldemort is not called the most powerful dark lord for nothing. Things look bleak. Voldemort looks to be back in form. Dumbledore is searching for Harry. What will happen next? How would the wizarding world react? Let me know what you think in the textbox below. It would take just seconds of your time and would make me very happy.


	9. The Beginning of the End

Chapter 9 - The Beginning of the End

* * *

 _Real fear does not paralyze you, rather it energizes you. This fear is real because it involves our intuition whose aim is the opposite of paralysis. Fear created by thinking too much paralyzes you and is false because it doesn't involve our intuition._ _For people like him, rejection is a threat to their identity, and their crimes are murder in self-defense. Lord Voldemort was a rather simple man with a great fear that, in a way, was real. And that fear gave him tremendous energy to escape it, causing him to live in expectations of great triumphs to compensate for those feelings. Because of his inflated sense of self, Lord Voldemort had a skewed sense of reality and was living in an illusion._

 _You, too, were paralyzed many a time in fear. You will slowly learn to escape from that fear. But you were always ready to fight your real fears, which were drastically different from your conjoined soul. Fortunately, when sometimes the fights you waged weren't sufficient, help was at hand, as it always will be to those who need it. You always tried to do everything alone. That is not the way. Sometimes you will find your way while doing nothing yourself._

* * *

Albus Dumbledore and Arabella Figg emerged in a whirling vortex of fire. The sound of a melodious trill warmed a secluded region in Privet Drive.

It took a moment for Arabella to gather her bearings. She felt a momentary disorientation that gradually faded, just like awakening from a dream. Her heart was racing and another moment passed before she realized what had happened. She looked around. Albus was studying their surroundings, his left hand holding a wand, something which in her hands would do nothing but protest in a shower of chaotic sparks.

They were surrounded by bushes, and a canopy of trees waved at them from both sides of the road. A couple of houses stood vigil on the isolated area from a distance.

Albus marched towards a remote patch behind a small tree at the edge of the road and ran his right hand through the gap in front of him. He must have detected something because he began casting some spells at the area.

"As I feared. He has been moved, either using apparition or through a portkey," Albus said as he conjured a parchment. Words were appearing on it as if being written by an invisible hand.

"It doesn't make sense, Albus! I had seen him just minutes before he vanished. I even had a Sneakoscope with me!" she remarked.

"You never know, Arabella. Maybe the Sneakoscope was defective, maybe his abductor bypassed its conjoining threads to reality, or maybe, nobody took him." The parchment flew up in the air where it was snatched by the talons of the phoenix perched on the branch of the tree. "You know what to do my friend."

The phoenix gave a trill and vanished in a swirl of flames.

Arabella was staring at the scene carrying an anxious posture. "Can you… do you know where he is?"

"No, I don't," Albus said.

She cursed inwardly. She had one task. One task! She felt like the twirling wand in Dumbledore's hand, the perched phoenix atop the overhung branch, the shimmering wards around, everything bespoke inadequacy of her meticulously crafted protective measures, her interminable vigilance and her persistent resistance. She had failed like the useless squib the world expected her to be.

Dumbledore slashed with his wand towards the ground carving three massive runes unknown to her. They were glowing. There was a sequence of random movements from Albus as he casted further spells, some of which floated tiny objects like leaves, stones through the air, some caused some brief flashy signs or sounds, and some which had no apparent effect. She wished she could do something to help him, but knew that she had nothing to offer.

"It was a portkey," Dumbledore stated.

"Do you know where he is?" she asked again.

He shook his head. "The runes need more time to regenerate enough power to allow us to determine the destination." He slanted his head sideways. "However, we have another way."

As if on cue, there was a flash of fire. A tall, muscular wizard wearing violet ministry robes appeared and fell on the ground.

"Wha… Ugh… Professor Dumbledore? What's happening?"

"Where's Ms. Traymere?"

"Oh, she is on leave for the past week. Her wand is giving her trouble, so she decided to take some time off to take care of it. Why are you asking for her? What's going on?"

Dumbledore squinted his eyes for a few seconds and asked, "Did you find the location of the poltergeist?"

"Huh… Oh no!" the ministry wizard said, his eyes widening. "Its trace has vanished. That means… How do you know about…? What's going on?!"

Albus said nothing. He beckoned his phoenix, which landed on his shoulders, vanishing them in another whirl of fire.

The man looked around awkwardly at the secluded area with floating leaves and gleaming runes. His eyes landed on hers.

"What's going on here?" he asked her clenching his teeth.

"I don't know…" she shifted clumsily at her spot. Harry Potter had portkeyed somewhere. That was all she knew. She knew nothing about where Albus had gone, why this ministry employee was here, or what a poltergeist had to do with it.

"You don't know, huh. What are you doing here then? Did our headmaster kidnap you too?"

"No! Why would he do that? I just live around the corner, and he said that he needed my help. I've been standing here like a dead duck, same as you."

" _That bastard!_ " He took a white parchment from his robes and poked it by the tip of his wand. He squinted at it for a few seconds. "Damn it!"

"You," he said pointing at her, "I know you are not telling me everything. I am from the Ministry of Magic, you know. I can arrest you for providing misinformation."

Arabella bristled instinctively, borne out of her defiance of her treatment as a second-rate citizen. "Yes, I recognized your robes. And no, I _won't_ tell you anything because I don't know anything."

"What did he need you here for then? And, where are we? Man, I need to contact the director."

"I live here in Privet Drive, Surrey," she replied, not elaborating further. She had to avoid telling him as much as she could.

The man's eyes widened. He looked around as if examining the place again.

"What happened to Harry Potter?" he asked after a moment.

 _What?_ He was looking at her closely. She answered hastily, "Harry Potter! Didn't he disappear years ago? Only Dumbledore knows where he lives."

"You do too," he replied gesturing at her.

"What are you talking about?" _Damn it!_ She wasn't cut out for this job.

"Cut it out with the act. You know what's going on here, don't you?"

She cursed inaudibly. This guy obviously knew something about the situation. "Harry Potter has disappeared. I was supposed to keep an eye on him."

The guy motioned to keep going.

She shrugged.

He sighed. "Well, I am sorry to inform you that he is most likely dead. Don't ask. It's a long story and I'm not allowed to tell. Where the hell is Dumbledore?" he asked, running his hand through his hair.

"What do you mean _he is dead_?! How do you even know this?"

"As I said, don't ask. It's classified."

They were silent as she hoped with all her might that this guy was wrong.

There was a crackle of a fire. "Harry Potter still lives," said Dumbledore as he arrived. "Norman, I need you to go back to the ministry and locate where the poltergeist was last detected. Fawkes, I know you are at your limit – just a couple more travels, my friend. Please stay with him, and come back as soon as he has the location."

* * *

She gasped and took large gulps of air, inhaling specks of dirt. Hazy visions filled her mind as she tried to open her eyes.

" _Lyanna? Lyanna! Hurry up dear, or you will be late for the train."_

Her hand automatically grasped her wand which was lying underneath her stomach.

" _Blackthorn, 9 inches, containing Hippogriff Tail Hair, great for charms. Its allegiance will be with you as long as you heed your own counsel."_

A sharp pain rippled through her torso as she tried to move. She was finding it difficult to grasp at anything. Her thoughts were muddled, tossing her mind into disarray. In this confusion came the instinctual question that few chose to ask themselves, and one she had internalized through diligent repetition and an intense desire to choose the right option. A choice with a rational outlook without any prior judgment or bias. She asked herself, _what should I do?_

" _You crave recognition, and what's this? You don't settle easily, do you? Yes, yes, Salazar would be proud to have you in his house. Keep your wits, listen to your heart and you will go far."_

Where was she? How did she get here? A loud scream reached her ears. _Noo,_ her heart cried. Lying facedown she could just make out a blurry image of a small dark-haired boy.

 _She felt like singing and dancing in her room. What a day it had been. She had met Harry Potter! 'Hmm, what should I do…' "Don't worry, Lyanna. Except for the minister, this information will be limited to just us three…" "I sincerely apologize, but I would require an oath of silence. My heart speaks that I could take you into confidence, but a part of me is wretchedly shouting not to do so. I have learned over the past wars not to ignore that voice…" "I think it would be beneficial for all of us if you could continue to engage in your correspondence with Harry Potter. He would need a deft touch to guide him through the peculiarities that he would experience in the wizarding world. I assume this is also in line to meet your expectations, which I do not claim to know."_

AGH! She tried to move her body through the pain. The screams stopped. She could see the blurry image of a bald man advancing towards her.

 _She was drinking the tea that Norman had gifted her after their third date yesterday. 'That man,' she shook her head with a smile. She was reading the letter that she was going to send to Harry Potter tonight. She doubted that he will understand it in its entirety, but it contained all the things that she would want someone to tell her had she been in his place. She just wished he wouldn't get bored and stop reading in the middle of it. She paused. There was a slight disturbance in the wards in her place. She jumped involuntarily as her heart raced… Oh no, someone was in her apartment. 'What should I do…' She was just about to press the E-Arm, when she was incarcerated in ropes. A bald man appeared before her. "Imperio…" Her fear vanished, her thoughts vanished, she didn't have to do anything except follow her master's wishes. 'Such a blissful feeling…'_

The man snatched her wand from her fingers sending a ripple of pain through her body. She screamed. Her voice seemed hoarse as though it had been in torpor for a long time. She was in trouble. _What should I do?!_ With an effort she flicked her wrist, sending the E-Arm from her hostler and pressed it.

"You are fortunate, girl," came a menacing voice. "Not many have survived once Lord Voldemort had decided to end their life. How the proud house of Slytherin has fallen. Salazar would be so displeased… That was a terrible mistake, one which you won't commit again. Once again, let it be witnessed that Lord Voldemort is merciful…"

He was silent as he marched towards her.

 _She saw Lord Voldemort march towards her. He clenched her shoulders and whispered, "Kill Harry Potter." A wave of nausea hit her as her brain registered what was being asked of her. Her mind rebelled and screamed at the injustice. She looked into the eyes of the dark lord reading her thoughts and knew that her fate was sealed. Her brain told her there was only one possible way out of this. She would kill the Boy-Who-Lived. She held down on the impulse to scream. She stamped down on the impulse to think about screaming. She wanted to run. She wanted to cry until oblivion seeps over. No, she didn't even have the choice to think of that. The dark lord was looking at her. Forcing her body to stand upright, she trudged towards Harry Potter._

 _He looked so small, so miserable tied to the tombstone. Her mind continued screaming at her and tears were welling up in her eyes as she came closer. "You know why I have to do this, Harry. I am really sorry," she spoke just for the sake of saying something, anything. 'No, he wouldn't understand. How could someone so young, so innocent understand what I was about to do.' She tried to rationalize, to console herself that she had to do this. You don't decline an order from the dark lord, especially when he is watching your every move._

 _He was struggling against the rope. Tears were falling freely from his eyes as he pleaded silently for help. She deliberately raised her wand towards him. Time seemed to slow down. She could feel the dark lord's eyes on her back but she ignored it. She ignored the whimpering of the death eater. She ignored the loud thumping of her heart. She heard the muffled protests of the Boy-Who-Lived. She saw his tears. She saw the images of a young girl wanting to float in the clouds. She saw her dreams of earning everyone's respect, dreams of achieving greatness, dreams of becoming a proud slytherin, and of reforming its image. She saw that she had been wrestling with herself throughout this ordeal. This was clearly not what she wanted to do. She let herself fall into the depth of her mind. Her guard slipped, her doubts vanished and she asked herself a question, what should I do?_

' _I should find a way to save me and Harry. How? The dark lord is standing behind us, thankfully not aware of your thoughts. Also, this graveyard must have anti-apparition wards. Damn! I should have pressed my E-Arm earlier. It would only attract unnecessary attention now.' What if there isn't a way, came a thought. It was ignored. She had a portkey creation clearance in case of emergencies, came the solution. 'I could create a portkey. But, he is tied up to a tombstone – it is not possible for you to succeed. No, my magic will find a way; I have to trust in it. What if your magic doesn't work? No, I can't have doubt. You would be going against the dark lord.' Making the decision, she took a deep breath – 'I never liked him anyway.' "Portu-"_

 _Oh, Merlin! What had she done? She could have been killed!_ She was lofted from the ground through magic, crying as her body protested the movements. Her eyes found the dark lord's, surprise evident in them.

"Interesting. I cannot read your thoughts now. Why is that, I wonder?"

"Is it because I tried to end these thoughts themselves?" He turned his head towards the prone form of Harry Potter. "Then why can I read the boy's thoughts?" His lips quirked. "The thoughts of a tortured soul after a good cruciatus curse are quite entertaining." He let go of the spell, and she fell back with a thud screaming in agony.

"That is a great gift for my rebirth, is it not, Quirinus? This girl will also prove to be a good test subject for later. Give me your arm. It is time for the final gift of the night. Let us call our brothers to celebrate with us the death of the Boy-Who-"

SWISH. He whipped back and launched a powerful blasting curse! Lyanna's eyes widened. Standing behind a shimmering golden shield was Dumbledore and… no! Norman! He fell to the ground and scrambled away in haste.

The gargoyle gracing the tombstone imprisoning Harry ripped the ropes apart. A spell ricocheted off of its body as it covered Harry and began dragging him away. Three more figureheads came alive and dashed to their area.

The dark lord screamed in rage and threw more savage curses at Dumbledore, who vanished in a whirl of flames. The dark lord spun back and conjured a silver shield to protect himself from a vicious spell which impacted it with a resounding bang, managing to push the dark lord back.

One of the gargoyles, wearing an eerily sadistic grin smashed against the death eater launching him back with a thud and in a sprinkle of blood, knocking him unconscious. The two remaining monstrous statues flanked the dark lord and slashed hard with their scythes, which were parried by invisible shields. The dark lord vanished in a black smoke in order to escape the intense onslaught of spells from Dumbledore.

Within seconds, the graveyard was ravaged into a ruin of debris and dust. Black smokes were rising from the graves and the dark lord's menacing voice resounded, "You shouldn't have come here, Dumbledore. I will not waste this opportunity to dig a new grave here."

Norman was by Lyanna's side now and was holding her tight, wary of any stray spell coming their way. Her heart lurched when she heard inhuman screams coming from the graves. They gave a horrified cry as grotesque and decayed corpses rose from the graves.

"What did you think, Dumbledore? That I had spent the past decade haunting forests and villages! Unlike your toys, my army does not need _my_ directions to fight. I have given them my orders and they will follow them on their own."

* * *

Albus was grief-stricken as he saw this vilest of acts. Creating Inferi takes a long time. You had to cast rounds of spells, use forbidden potions and conduct dark rituals to have a chance at succeeding in this inimical task. To what lengths had Tom stooped down to?

"You won't be killing anyone today, Tom," he replied knowing the aversion that Tom had for his own name.

Moving with a speed that belied his age, he evaded the curses thrown his way by Tom as he reappeared, and conjured a long sweltering whip of fire, which cut through the corpses in its vicinity. Hurriedly evading a killing curse, he conjured a large flaming phoenix that soared at Tom aiming to hold him back.

Norman was trying his best to hold back the encroaching horde on his own, doing better than Albus expected him to. One of the inferi had penetrated his defenses, slashing his chest with its long skeletal fingers, but was stopped by an animated gargoyle whose attacks decapitated the corpse and hurled the body back among its cohorts.

Fifty yards away by now, Harry was being protected by his defender. The two remaining gargoyles were rushing towards the corpses advancing towards Harry, who had collapsed. Albus used his modified incarcerating spell, binding the nearest assaulters in invisible ropes.

A spell zapped past his head. That spell, if it had hit him, would have caused him to drown in the air. His lungs would have burst and his whole body would be crying for some way to pass oxygen to his blood. Pain would shoot through his body like a bolt of lightning, his legs would feel like they are being crushed by their own weight, and he would feel a terror so strong it would crush his heart.

He knew he had to end this fast. Spells flew from the elder wand as steadily as the steps of a ballet dancer, steadier than his heart was beating. A dueler's spirit is not in his body, as they say, it's in his wand.

Every dueler can pay attention to a limited number of objects in their surroundings at a particular moment in time. How much they can observe depends on how small those moments of time are for them. Albus had trained long enough and hard enough to carve his perception of time into finer and finer pieces. With the elder wand in his hand, he was able to keep an eye on Harry, observe Lyanna and Norman, hurl balls of fire at the inferi which escaped the gargoyles, direct his animations and fight Tom at the same time with unrivaled expertise.

Tom, who was breathing hard, threw his head back and brought his hand forward in a sweep to create three massive snakes each advancing on its target.

Albus rushed to protect his allies. Casting 'Avis' behind the opaque shield of 'Protego Maxima', he guarded himself against further spells. The snake attacking him was cut in two by an invisible sword lunge. He turned his gaze to Harry Potter. Two of the defending animations had already been obliterated by the vicious attacks of the rampaging serpent over the inferi army. Albus casted a powerful blasting curse which hit it on the side of its head rendering its attack on the remaining gargoyle off-course. The range being too large for a sectumsempra, large spiky vines erupted from the ground and bound themselves tightly to the raiding creature.

"No! Norman! Norman, move!" Turning his attention to his friends from the ministry brought a momentary lapse in his focus. Their protector lay as rubble around them. Norman's battered body, which was trying to ward off any damage to Lyanna, shuddered with another excoriating lash from the serpent's spiky tail as he and Lyanna were thrown back.

His trustworthy companion, meanwhile, swooped down on a killing curse thrown his way and swallowed it, prematurely ending this cycle of his life.

The snake had bared its jaws and was slithering fast for another attack. Albus tuned his awareness to the anger at their wounds, to the mutilated corpses scattered throughout, to the telltale quivering from the torture curse by Harry Potter. The snake toppled lifelessly from the touch of his spell.

Albus let loose a relentless barrage of curses, conjurations, transfigurations, and charms on Tom, knowing that he cannot provide another opportunity for diversion. These were meant to hold ground as he prepared his final emotive spell to culminate the fight.

Gathering his desire to protect everyone present from Tom, his sorrow at the wounds inflicted on them, his aversion of everything Tom did, his rejection of everything Tom stood for, his belief in his ways, and his will to prevent Tom from succeeding, he powered up his spell.

"You have grown weaker, Tom. You cannot win this fight, _Erado Discidium!_ " he declared. The spell instantaneously created a white sparkling dome around Tom, every part of it shimmering at the recognition of the otherness within. Tom screamed as it crackled with subdued energy.

"What did you think, Tom? That I had spent the past decade sitting behind my desk rejoicing at your defeat at the hands of Harry Potter! You cannot escape."

A few minutes passed as the spell shimmered, and Tom's screams stopped. When the wall collapsed, he was disappointed, but not surprised to see it lacking a dark lord.

He picked Fawkes from the heap of her own ash and started the process of bringing the wards down. He had to take Harry, Norman, and Lyanna to St. Mungo's, and prepare for the beginning of this wizarding war. This time things will go differently if he had anything to say about it. The wards shimmered over the 5000 yd2 area in the darkness and disappeared after a few minutes.

As he held the three unconscious bodies, he felt the arrival of several wizards. Three ministry Aurors and two Spirit-Checkers apparated moments later.

Albus interrupted their shocked reverie at seeing the nightmarish scene at the destroyed graveyard with all the corpses, the trapped mammoth snake, and the wounded as he ordered, "Don't just stand there! You two, apparate your partners to St. Mungo's – I will bring the child. You two, guard the downed death eater, and you, tell Minister Fudge that if he does not wish to have the shortest reign as the Minister of Magic, he should arrive here within fifteen minutes with an interrogator and some veritaserum."

* * *

The desolate house shuddered on the hill from the unsuccessful friendfyre, leading to Lord Voldemort's furious screams. He was pacing around a large hall whose only signs of recent inhabited life were the picturesque cobwebs gleaming in the flickers of moonlight from the missing tiles on the roof. He thrust his wand at the fireplace which reignited in a fire after it was extinguished when the friendfyre had faded out.

The bald aging muggle sprawled out on the floor let out another panicked sound. "Shut up, you worthless muggle!"

Blocking his desire to kill this degenerate, he focused on the problems at hand. Ever since that accursed night, not one day had passed which wasn't replete with his anguish and suffering. He thought today would be the end of it all. _Today I was supposed to find my salvation! Damn you, Dumbledore!_ Not only had Harry Potter escaped from his clutches, but something was wrong with his magic. He had barely escaped Dumbledore's prison. _Damn you, Dumbledore! Damn that poltergeist!_

His power would grow back, of that he had no doubt. He would have to plan his next moves carefully now that Dumbledore and, through him, the ministry is aware of his return. _The Death Eater would regroup, yes. Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Macnair, the Carrows, most of the frolickers would be punished. Dear Bella, the Lestranges, Dolohov, Rookwood, Mulciber, most of the worthy members are rotting in Azkaban; they would be rewarded. Snape! Karkaroff! They would be tortured, and made an example of. No one, no one betrays Lord Voldemort!_ But first, he wanted to satiate an inkling. He turned to the muggle.

"Avada Kedavra," he intoned with no emotion. The muggle stopped moving, apparently dead, but breathed life after a few moments.

"Wake up, you fool! Useless! Enervate." The muggle screamed after being brought back to consciousness forcibly.

"It is as I thought. I cannot read your thoughts, muggle." Voldemort was silent for a while. _Why is that I could feel Harry Potter's thought with such clarity? He could understand only Nagini so clearly. In fact, the craving for relief in Potter's head was still ringing in his head._ He stopped pacing.

"Avada Kedavra!" Frank Byrce of Little Hangleton breathed his last breath, forever eternalizing the story of the haunted Riddle House.

* * *

A/N: I apologize for the long wait, guys. I had lost my enthusiasm for this story as it wasn't generating much interest. But I recently began writing this chapter out of boredom, so here it is. Seriously, I never knew fight scenes would be so difficult to write.


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